Trust The Instinct
by LEOLEO23
Summary: SEQUEL TO NEVER LOVE A WILD THING. After Peter's death, Nora should have known better than to think her life could go back to normal. When Derek offers her a proposition Nora knows, deep down, she can't refuse, she sides with him against a new poisonous threat, alienating her friends, and continuing to play the dangerous hunting game with the Argent family.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: OMEGA

School only a week-end after killing Peter seemed like an unworthy reward from the universe. That was what Vee thought of it. I myself thought it was more like nature balancing out and reminding us of our regular lives. Patch, although back in school for his last year before graduating, was just as annoyed about it as Vee. I should have known better than to think my life could go back to normal after befriending a werefox bent on protecting me from harm. After my best friend was Bitten by an sociopathic deceased Alpha and turned into a werewolf herself. And after falling for the nephew of that deceased Alpha, who was the current Alpha in Beacon Hills. Derek Hale.

That was after a boy I thought cared about me gave me pre-heartbreak. We didn't technically go out long enough for me to suffer through actual heartbreaking. He was hung up on a girl who had been Bitten—or bitten—by that dead Alpha, and was now healing at a human pace which made her... unnatural. Stiles. Stiles asked her out to the Winter Formal instead of asking me. We hadn't spoken in ages. Come to think of it, I hadn't spoken to Scott, Allison or Jackson since Friday when Peter was killed.

I made it a single week-end avoiding confrontation.

My father had been murdered a few years back investigating the Hale fire that burned Derek's family alive, save for him, Peter and Laura who was killed by Peter so he could become the Alpha. He was actually a werewolf hunter who had worked with the Argents for quite some time. Then he was murdered, looking into the Hale fire with Laura.

Kate Argent, the secret mastermind behind the Hale fire, sought me out one evening and persuaded me to join her team. Trained by fellow hunters, Leveque and Ulrich, I waited until the Formal where her plans would be put into action. Initially, my inside man position was valuable as Derek being held captive gave me a chance to look out for him and be innocent during it.

Since following Kate into a hunting lifestyle, I feared what Scott, Stiles and worse of all, Allison, would think of me. Scott was the second Beta the Argents were looking for and while I didn't tell them he was a werewolf, I didn't correct Kate or try to stop her or Chris when he and Leveque rammed him by cars on both sides making him wolf-out to dodge them, indirectly showing Allison he was a wolf. Technically, I didn't know anything about it. But I was involved with the Argents and that was bad enough.

With Stiles... well, it was complicated and messy. Stiles was Scott's best friend. Meaning he was on his side for everything. That being said, I couldn't enlist my trust in Stiles' silence on the matter and frankly I didn't want to see him at all after he chose Lydia over me.

Allison was an Argent and hunter by birth. The role I played in her finding out about werewolves had Kate written all over it. Still, I didn't stop her or do anything to prevent Allison finding out the way she did. Which was seeing Derek wolfed-out and tried up, electricity being pumped into him to stop the Shift.

So I didn't know where that left me with those three.

As for my dad: Inside the office stacked with the stuff he left behind, I found (disturbingly) not just his PI guns, but divorce and adoption papers. With Peter obsessed with having a pack, made up of three Betas, Derek, Scott and Vee, I hadn't had time to confront my mother about it. I also didn't want her knowing I had gone through dad's things since we had come to a silent agreement that we would never enter it again unless absolutely necessary.

How was I supposed to explain finding those documents?

Not really having had the time to think clearly about them, after promising Derek a peek at my father's case file on the Hale fire, I hid them in my cello case buried deep in my wardrobe. Mom still hadn't found them, which wasn't a surprise since she was out of town working a lot.

That summed up four of the messed-up relationships I had. Patch, Vee, Jackson, Matt and Derek were left to explain.

Matt was an acquaintance I hadn't noticed liked me during our brief interactions in photography class. He asked me to the Winter Formal. I accepted as to not go alone. Vee took Isaac and the four of us had a good time. Until Lydia was bitten by Peter and Chris showed Allison Scott was a werewolf by driving towards him with Leveque on the other end of Scott at ninety miles per hour. My feelings for Matt were clear: He was a good friend. I hadn't taken his calls since Vee and I left him and Isaac at the Formal to go find Scott. His texts told me he wanted to talk. I knew what about. Matt understood I only wanted to be friends. He wanted to ask about Allison, whom he had been eyeballing at the Formal with Jackson. Per my understanding, Scott and Allison were pretending to be broken up for her father's sake. The show they put up was only visible to pierce through if you knew Chris had held a gun to Scott's face while Allison begged for his life. They wouldn't be split up by that. Something far bigger would have to cut Allison out of his arms. If Matt asked, I'd tell him Allison was still healing from the breakup.

Jackson wanted the Bite. He found out Scott was a werewolf and blackmailed him into getting it for him, too. Otherwise, he would tell Allison. Scott managed to get out of that deal scot-free. Once Derek stole the Alpha power from Peter with a slash of his claws, Jackson went to the Hale house to receive his reward: the Bite. Jackson had watched with me while Vee was Bitten by Peter in a video store. He knew the pain carved into her features and he still wanted it. I confronted Derek about it. I demanded to know why he thought Jackson was a toy, accidentally scratching him and transferring memories to him (a wolf gift) and then Biting him. I had a hunch Jackson only wanted the Bite to not be scared. Derek was who he was scared of. Derek retaliated by telling me Jackson wanted the Bite, then kissed me on-and-off for thirty minutes in between arguing. I wasn't quite sure where that left me and him: If he being a werewolf meant we couldn't be friends anymore.

Patch had been hired to protect me by Ms. Morrell. She didn't want me finding out the truth about werewolves because of manipulative people like Kate, who had used me for her own gain, and Dabria, a werefox who thought I was standing in the way of her getting back together with Patch. Once, I heard her and Dr. Deaton, her brother, argue about the things she was doing to keep me in the dark after I got poisoned by aconite she had given me for protection against the werewolves in town. She claimed I was like her. I still didn't know what that meant.

Finding out Patch was a werefox was a big surprise. That he lost his virginity to Peter, before the fire rendered him catatonic, was an even bigger surprise. Him betraying me to join Peter's pack hit me like a ton of bricks. Then I found out he was playing Peter to know his next move. After Dabria tried to kill me Patch showed me his Shift and left to protect Danny, his ex-boyfriend. He ripped off her foxtail and she skipped town. Later on, he tried to help defeat Peter but he was too busy protecting Danny. So after he healed from the stab wound Peter delivered, Patch broke up with Danny for his own sake.

Vee, my best friend whom I was tied to by a silver cord, understood everything I did and didn't judge me. That was why she was my best friend. I returned the favour in every way I could. There was only one secret left I was keeping between us. The divorce and adoption papers I found.

All my relationships up to speed, Derek, least but not last, was my... a... someone I could... Trying to explain the relationship between me, Nora Grey, and him, Derek Hale, was like trying to beat up bricks. It was impossible and hurt a little. Scratch that. It hurt a lot.

Monday night, after a whole school day of avoiding Scott, Stiles and Allison with Vee and Patch, I found him in my house. Wish I could say for the first time.

"Derek?"

"Nora." He addressed. Shadows played along his cut-throat cheekbones. Eyes sparkling bottle green, Derek flashed glow-in-the-dark white teeth. My bed was ruffled in a hurling flap of werewolf speed. Immediately afterwards, Derek was standing so close, so intimately close, his timberland-type smell enveloped me. The sleeves of his leather jacket brushed my naked arms. Hunky thighs introdingly pressed up against mine. A whimper crawled out of my throat.

Derek bent his head low enough for my fingers so slip behind his ears and feel the dark tousled hair that I imagined trailing all over his impressingly muscled body. Salt churned my stomach at the curve of his jaw working open. The arousal that coursed through me, twinly veiled in his eyes, was rapidly dispersed by the fangs it housed. "Derek." I raised my elbows to my stomach and pushed on his flat abdomen. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not allowed to kiss you?" Derek asked, a line crossing his brow. Genuine concern. I had never seen that mask on Derek before.

"No. I guess not." I walked to the window. "It's late. If you don't mind..." Leaving the end of the sentence punctuated by a finger thrust at the door, I waited for him to leave the way he came.

"I'm not leaving yet." He told me. A rapacious, vulturine look hungered in his gaze. Misty green eyes swallowed me whole. Derek waved a hand between us. "We have unfinished business." Another stroke of wind whipping my curls off my shoulders to billow in the wind whisking outside and Derek was in front of me. Strong, calloused hand tipping my chin up for a kiss, I was all warm inside like my stomach was made of fluttery soup.

"Wait, wait." I turned my head. His lips caught my cheek. The hand I held at the hem of his shirt, fisted, he brought up to his lips to glide along. Spit-slicked, he puckered them to kiss my fist. "What does this mean?"

"This?" He dropped my hand and moved so the spacious air around me was gone. Derek pressed against my right side, an arm circling my waist.

"This." I repeated, hoping my voice didn't crack. "Us." Clarifying the situation, hoping he would understand, my eyes slid shut.

Derek moved to my left side. Fingers dotted along my stomach, dancing lowly at my bellybutton and rising with caution. "Us." He repeated, dragging out the word on his tongue. A barely-there smile graced his face.

"Stop stalling." Derek moved again, out of sight, but not out of mind. He was very much on my mind. "Just tell me. What do I mean to you?" It was encroaching to imply I meant anything to him, other than a few spontaneous kisses, what had we really shared? But it was also intrusive to break into my house and ambush me with stolen kisses that gave me confusing feelings I didn't know how to handle. Like I told Vee once, I had never fallen in love. How was I suppose to know what _it _felt like? With Matt I felt like I did with Patch, or Jackson, or around Danny. He was just another guy. With Stiles, sure at first I wanted him and I thought he wanted me to. That ended badly and we broke it off, unspokenly, cleanly. With Derek he was always just... there... teasing, exciting, titillating.

Breathe streamed from the tip of my scalp, rolled down to the nape of my neck and tracked along the curve of my shoulders to a place deep inside me. Touches, sleek and smooth, over my neck and shoulders hummed with electricity.

_Kate's fingers slipped up on the dial. As the volts got higher – more dangerous – pure electricity thrummed through the wires and sparked into Derek's side where they were taped. The shocks rioted waves of bright burning blasts through his hands and up his torso. Screams of agony filled the room. Derek slipped in and out of wolf form. It was all a big daze._

The gasp that filled the room had Derek quiet. The loud breathing he was doing stopped, and he dropped his hands to his sides. "What's wrong?" He asked, all too deliciously.

I twisted to face him. "I helped capture you." The memory spun through his eyes. It was glassy and faded, looking into a crystal ball made of green glass that contained a recording of me shooting him between the shoulder blades and then throwing up. "I shot you." Derek flinched.

_The gun barked in my hand, sweat squeezing the trigger. Light and sound shot through the darkness blindingly and deafeningly. A ripple spread through the back of his jacket, tearing it open. Blood blossomed on the wound there, between his shoulder blades where his tattoo was. Kate was right. I was a good shot. I hit point-blank the exact spot his tattoo began spiralling the three other patterns of the triskele. Burgundy flushed to purple drooled down his back._

"Then you healed me." Derek said, delicately.

"Why?" A stranger, familiar yet distant, took hold of my voice. Making it sound sure and surprisingly strong and steady. "Why would you come back to me after all that pain?"

Derek looked thoughtful. Then said, "I know that gun," He jerked his chin to the Smith & Wesson, "isn't loaded anymore." A smile cracked his face. I knew it was a joke, but it was too morbid to laugh about. Derek was the one who was shot. Yet, I remembered the bullet as if it had pierced my own skin and dented it with blood. He healed. I didn't.

"I'm sorry." I said, snapping back into my body. My voice, my actions, my memories. "It's just all too fresh to go back to something like this." A sob choked the rest of what I was going to say. That I liked seeing him on his knees, beaten and bleeding. That I liked having been the one to do that. That I liked the power that came with a wolfsbane-laced bullet loaded in the gun I held.

Derek looked down.

One, two, three beats past. He was gone when I looked back up to meet his eyes. Turning to leap into my bed, I smacked into his hard chest. Body betraying me, I let his arms circle my waist and pull me closer to the masculine smell of leather and the feel of muscle.

"Is forgiveness what you want?"

I shook my head.

"Don't make me regret this." He growled. Placing his thick thigh between my legs, parting them, his hands slid up my arms to cup my face into a crushing kiss. I kissed back so hard, so hungry, I thought my lips would bruise against his. I pushed my hands up to his hair, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. The black strands sifted through my fingers like sand dripping, not as coarse but just as soft.

Derek pulls back, breaking the kiss and lowering his hands to balance against my ribs. I lick my lips, savouring his taste on my tongue. He doesn't wait to give me a warning. Stubble rasped my chin, Derek's angrily moaning against my mouth and pushing me up and up and up until there's a wall and a body pressing on both my front and back.

My feet leave the ground. Derek heaved me up, impossibly strong, until I wrapped my legs around his waist. "Reminds me of the last time we did this." He said, huskily.

"My mom was home, then."

"Is she not, now?" A touch of tongue on my neck, softly and tauntingly, caused my heart to suddenly bump bump _bump _against my ribs. I didn't answer. My hands left his hair and scratched down his stomach, furrowing his shirt, to grip the hem, winking ivory skin.

Derek pressed his chest to mine, smashing them together, so he could shuck off his leather jacket. He leaned back, giving me no choice but to throw my arms around his neck and cross my legs at his back to keep from sliding down. I slid my hands up his stomach, feeling and nipping at the grooves of his abs, loving the way his body heat spread through my hands so efficiently quickly.

We spun until Derek threw an arm behind his back to unlace my legs. Dropping to the floor, I gaped up at him. Grinning, he stuck out a leg behind my knee and shoved at my chest. I fell to the bed behind me and in seconds he was writhing above me.

A finger hooked in the waistband of my jeans, Derek dragged me closer to him so I could, once again, wrap my legs around his waist and throw my arms around his neck. He rolled his hips.

Hot and urgent desire stroked through me.

"You're _mine_." Derek grumbled, voice hoarse with lust. He nibbled at my ear with blunt human teeth, tongue flicking out to taste it. Moving along my collarbone, lips wet and working, he muzzled into my neck and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

I held his hips, tugging him closer to me. Wanting to meld our bodies together so tight that he would never let me go and you couldn't know where he ended and where I began. Derek's fly came down. Blindly, I threw a hand out to the snap of his jeans. "I want you." He continued.

His jeans folded, the right and left side opening to show tight fitting black boxers.

"I want you by my side." I jumped to meet his thrusting hips, groaning erratically at the too-much-but-not-enough sensations ripping through me. "In my pack."

Just like that, everything shot into focus. My hands went out to reach the folds of his jeans. I threw him off his weight, swinging upwards so he landed on his back. Straddling his waist, I said, "I knew it! I knew you wanted something." Derek turned his face to the left, shutting his eyes. "I will _not_ be a werewolf. Not now, not ever!" Getting off the bed, throwing a finger at the door, I said, "Now get out of my room. Of my house. Of my life!" The worst kind of emotions were flooding through me. Dark thoughts began to stir in my mind. Like how fast I could get a loaded gun into my hand and make him pay for the perversion he committed. Seducing me into getting the Bite. What kind of sick Alpha would to that?

"You're not hearing me right." Derek said, zipping up his jeans.

"What part of 'I don't want to be in your pack' are you not understanding? I don't want to be a werewolf." I said. "Not now, or ever." Derek rose up off the bed. "Just leave."

"I don't want you to be a werewolf. I won't give you the Bite unless you ask." Derek shook his head. "What I want is you. In my pack. Only not just _in _it. I want you to lead it. With me. Be my female Alpha. Be my second-in-command." He paused, staring at the flush blowing across my cheeks hotly. "Be _mine_."

"Derek..." I began. His eyes widened, ears strained and mouth parted slightly. He scooped up his leather jacket.

"I have to go. Just like last time." Was all he said before a black figure darted through the window of my bedroom, leaving me oddly cold and hollow. Empty.

Confusion confided me, heavily and chokingly. Eyes stinging the back of my eyes, I moved to open the door and peek my head outside.

"Babe!" Vee called up the stairs. Her heels clipped against the stairs. "Are you home? The front door was unlocked so..."

"So you just let yourself in." I finished for her, struggling to keep my emotionless and flat voice from breaking. Derek wanted me. He wanted me to lead his pack with him, as his female Alpha. What did that even mean? Could humans be second-in-commands to werewolf Alphas? I didn't think that the wolves in the pack would hold much respect to a human leading them, even if I was just a second-in-command, Derek said _female Alpha_. You couldn't be an Alpha unless you were a werewolf.

I flat-out told him I didn't want to be one. He said he wouldn't turn me unless I asked. I was never going to ask to be turned into a werewolf but he still wanted me as his female Alpha. _His. _Werewolves were possessive by nature, just as wolves are themselves, but being owned wasn't a thing. Was it?

I wouldn't lead Derek's pack with him. Not if it meant being Derek's. Whatever that meant, I'm sure being someone's wasn't anything good, just like slavery. Part of Derek's pack, leading it as his second-in-command, as his human female Alpha, meant being Derek's. I wouldn't take that chance. Not even if it meant helping newly-Bitten werewolves. I didn't owe them anything. Just because Vee was a wolf didn't mean I had to help any other. My dad had hunted them. Where did that leave me?

"Can't blame a girl for wanting to see her best friend, now, can you?" Vee asked, climbing the last steps to greet me. "Haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you weren't in school today." I said. "I know it's just been one week-end since Peter's death but you have no excuse."

"Oh no?"

"No." I snapped. "You left me to avoid Scott, Allison and Stiles all by myself. Patch was there, and I helped him deal with the Danny breakup but it's your job, as my best friend, to be there for me." I paused. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Vee, not realizing I was kidding, said, "I know it was a little selfish of me but I just wasn't ready to head back into school." She flapped her arms. "I'm a werewolf now. And my only shot at a cure is gone. Derek said he's only ever heard of one. He didn't know if it would've worked or not, but it was something, you know?" She turned her face. "All I needed was a little time to come to the conclusion that this is what I am now. A werewolf. And that's not changing any time soon, so I've been practising. With my abilities, my senses." Vee flashed a grin. "I've gotten pretty good."

"That's great." I said. "How good are you, now?"

"Before, sometimes scents would mix together and I'd get confused. Now, I know how to differentiate scents and tag them to their origins." Vee paused, eyes taking a faded look, beyond. "For example..."

"No, no, no." Pulling the door to my bedroom closed, I shoved Vee downstairs and hopped along behind her. "No examples needed, I believe you." A tight-lipped smile came over my face. I didn't need Vee smelling Derek in my room, or smelling my arousal for him. "So what else can you do?"

Vee wrestled the refrigerator door open. "Hmm. I can hear from further away. But here, in your farmhouse, that's pretty much useless. Who would be around at this time of night, right?" A weary feeling gibbositized me.

I nodded, agreeing with only a humming sound. Then, I added, "What about the other three senses. Sight, taste and touch?"

"Those three are the hardest." Vee said, shutting the fridge. "If I were to taste your day-old lasagne in the blue Tupperware I would only be able to name the ingredients I know are in it, like cheese and tomato sauce and meat. Taste is similar to smell in that way." Vee explained. "If I don't know what I'm smelling I can't name it. Sometimes, it will be obvious. Like plastic or gasoline have very distinguished smells. But other, smaller things like cinnamon or teaspoons of liquor I can't quite taste."

"What about touch?"

Vee cringed. "See, that's the hardest one. When you touch something you feel the texture. When I do it..." A shiver buzzed up the back of her shirt. "I don't know what happens." Beaming, she added, "But I have been practising a little with sight." Vee flashes golden Beta werewolf eyes. "I can use it for things like the dark."

At first, the dynamic colour of her eyes was supernaturally creepy and disorienting to me. Over time, getting used to it, there were sleek yet subtle changes you could tell in different werewolf's eyes. If you looked closely there were the tiniest, smallest specks of green drawn across the black lines in the golden irises of her eyes.

Vee blinked. Green eyes re-shadowed the gold. "So how is Patch? I know he broke up with Danny to keep him safe."

I moved to collect two glasses from the cupboard. Vee went to fetch chocolate milk. "He's okay. He actually really liked Danny. That's the sad thing. His biggest worry is Dabria coming back to finish what she started. Her elicit hitlist."

"Tell me again how breaking up with someone to protect them makes sense. Danny will be defenceless without Patch, right? I mean with all things considering, he's much safer with the werefox than without."

"It's not like that." I said, pouring the milk. "Danny would have never been introduced to the danger be it not for Patch. Dabria thought Danny was standing in the way of her and Patch being together because of Danny. Patch said he couldn't help us defeat Peter because he was worried for Danny. If he had gone to the Formal with someone other than Patch, Danny would have been fine and safe there instead of having it cut-short because Patch had to bring him home. Probably would have been able to visit Lydia, too, if he had gone with someone else. He told me Danny made a move on him when Patch drove him home, which only made it harder for him to leave and get to us fast enough. Honestly, I don't blame Patch for making sure Danny was safe first."

"So Patch broke up with Danny so he wouldn't be in any more supernatural danger?" Vee's brow creased.

"Yes." I said.

"Isn't that too late since Danny's already been exposed to it?"

"Lydia was exposed to it and she still doesn't know about the supernatural stuff in town. Same goes for Danny."

"Just because he doesn't know about it doesn't mean he's still not in danger. Patch put Danny in danger, he should be there to protect him in case something else happens to Danny because of Patch. Don't you think?"

"It is not our call to make, Vee." I said. She pursed her lips. "Patch thinks Danny will be safer without him, so that's what's going to happen."

"I think Patch just doesn't want the responsibility." Vee said. "How bummed were you when he kissed Peter to poison him?" She shuddered. "I mean, you told me they had a thing together before he went all... crazy, but still to see it firsthand was just an experience Ms. Morrell's gonna have to help me deal with."

"At least he never bit Danny and poisoned him."

"As far as we know." Vee retorted. "I don't care if he was busy putting Danny to bed, Patch didn't help us kill Peter. He got one little stab wound and left. Why aren't you pissed at him? He kept being a werefox from you and waited until you got attacked by his werefox ex-girlfriend to Shift in front of you." Waving her hand, she added, "You're really going to have to do something about that dead fox smell, too."

"Enough Patch, Danny, Dabria talk." I said, putting the empty glasses in the sink. "How's Isaac?"

Vee squirmed in her seat, fanning herself. "His smile, full-on, could be weaponized. I'm telling you. But he's just not the one for me. I need excitement, and danger in my life. Isaac's just way too shy and quiet. He seems like it would take a lot of work to get out of his shell."

"Don't you get enough excitement and danger from your werewolf adventures?" I asked. "Maybe a nice guy like Isaac will be good for you. It would distract you from all the things you don't want to think about. At least for now."

"Like?"

"Like Derek being the new Alpha."

"Sounds like a you problem, babe." Vee said. "I was never in Peter's pack anyway. Which means, since Derek stole the Alpha status from him by killing him, neither I or Scott are in his pack."

"Have you thought about what that makes you two?"

"Lone wolves?" Vee said. Before I could respond, Vee's whole demeanour changed. Hunching her shoulders, Vee's knees buckled and she gripped a chair to keep from falling. Something rippled through her body, startling her. Ears pricked up, Vee scrunched up her brow until it was as pronounced as it would have been if she was wolfed-out. "Lydia?" She whispered the name like a curse, a bearing. "I think I just heard Lydia scream."

"Scream or howl?"

"What difference does it make? She's in trouble!"

"Wolves howl to signal their positions to the pack." I reasoned. "I know her Bite never healed but couldn't that mean something else like... since she's not dying maybe the effects of the Bite are just taking longer on her."

"What makes her so special?" Vee asked. "The fact that she's a woman has nothing to do with it, mine healed fine."

"She's a redhead, who knows."

Vee pulled the Neon's keys out of her pocket. "I'll drive."

We walked to the front door in silence, until, "Are you sure you can find her?"

"I can't explain it, but it's like she signalled where she was to me. Like the time Derek howled to show me and Scott where he was. Like a wolf." Vee said. "Which is just so much more concerning. If I heard it, Scott did. And where Scott goes so does Stiles. If Lydia's turning, it means Allison's parents will be involved—"

"I get it, Vee!" I slammed the front door shut. "We have to get there before they do to avoid an awkward encounter. Fine!"

Ten minutes later, Vee didn't park in the hospital like I thought she would. "Vee? What are you doing? You said her scream signalled her to the hospital."

"I can smell her. She went into the Preserve—no. The Hale house." Vee said. My phone chirped. "Answer that. It could be someone important like Leveque or Ulrich asking you to tag along to the hunt for Lydia."

"It's not." I said, looking at my phone as if it had grown a second head. "It's just Patch." Ignoring the call, and Vee's stares, guilt ebbed away as the more important subject of Lydia dazzled to the front of my mind. Sure, I had avoided Patch's calls all week-end. I saw him just today! What could he have wanted to say that was so urgent it couldn't wait until tomorrow at school? If he was warning me about Lydia, I already knew because of Vee.

The Hale house was quite a while away from Beacon Hills Hospital. After fifteen minutes, I was sure we were the last two to the party. "I smell Scott." Vee said. "Lydia's scent ends here but... Stiles and Allison, too. And Mr. Argent!"

"Kill the headlights." I ordered, and she did. Vee parked the Neon between a hedge and some trees, trying for some camouflage so the purple paint wasn't popping out of the dark.

Vee and I were planted among a wildberry bush, too far from an upside-down hanging Scott and crouching Chris to hear what they were saying. "Vee." I whispered. Just because I was out of earshot, didn't mean she was.

"_Shh_." She said, closing her eyes to concentrate. Allison and Stiles had done a good job of hiding. I looked around for them, hair whipping back into my cheeks. Vee struck out a hand to hold over my mouth, white ghosts billowing out between her fingers. Scott was dangling from a booby trap the Argents must have place, talking hotly to Chris. His hair was shorter, not the surfer-like cut it was before but cropped closer. It was still in waves but it wasn't a sea of waves.

Smoke wisped out between them, dancing across each other's faces. His arms hung by his head, elbows outbound. While one jean-clad leg was tied up by the wire, the other was swinging loosely. Blood was warming Scott's tan face, a vein forking down his forehead. Two hulking hunters were rooted behind Chris. They were the two who threatened to beat up Jackson and Stiles the night of the Formal when Chris was trying to find Scott.

Turning on his heel to leave, Allison and Stiles waited for Chris and his henchmen to merge with the shadows to come out. Vee watched until Scott flicked out his claws to slash the wire holding his ankle, before she said, "They're going into the house. Let's just leave it to them. Chris wanted info from Scott but he didn't give any. All he was accusing Scott of was Lydia being in his pack. Then Chris said that just because he was a special case for his daughter didn't mean there would be two."

"What?" Disbelief coloured my voice. "They know you're Peter's third Bitten Beta. Were. Were Peter's third Beta. Why would Chris make Scott a special case and not you?"

"That's why I want to get out of here." Vee said. That was fine with me. Things were still too complicated between Stiles and I, considering I didn't know what I felt for him and what the relationship between Allison and I was. Vee drove me home but didn't go inside.

Taking a whiff, killing the engine, she said, "Love by Ralph Lauren. Oh, your mom's home." Taking a second, she added, "Speak of the Devil, from earlier. Mint and dark-scented soap: Patch."

"You have got to get over your problem with him. He's in my life now, whether you like it or not." I climbed out of the car, unlatching my seatbelt and slamming the door. "So suck it up." I told her through the open window.

Patch wasn't the reason Vee was Bitten. He even tried to help kill Peter with a poisonous werefox bite. Sure, he could have done more but no one received (except for Allison's aunt, Kate) a bigger wound than stabbing claws to the stomach. He had the right to flee. It didn't make him a coward. It made Vee bitter for no reason. He even helped the both of us when we were trapped in the school with Jules and Elliot. Patch's methods are unorthodox, _sure_, and hard to comprehend but he was still there for a reason. A reason called Ms. Morrell. She had contracted him for my protection.

Mom opened the door for me. "Hey, Nora." She said. "Your friend, Patch, is here to see you." She pulled me into a tight hug, arms going around my torso. In response, I let my arms go up to her back. "I let him up into your room." Mom moved around the counter of the kitchen to lug and place brown paper grocery bags on the counter.

"We'll be down to help you with the groceries in a minute, Mom, I promise." I called, placing a hand on the banister and a foot on the first step.

"Oh, Nora. Wait up." She said. I turned to face her and moved back into the kitchen. She met me halfway, beside the laundry room. "With all the animal attacks and Kate Argent being put to justice, well, not officially anyway," She was fidgeting, lacing her hands together and gesturing awkwardly. "but being pinned to the Hale fire six years ago... I just wanted to tell you to be careful. I know that it's all over now that she's dead but it's better to be safe than sorry, right? Kate Argent was Allison Argent's aunt, wasn't she?"

I nodded.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but try to be careful around that girl."

"_Mom_."

"Nora, don't get upset."

"I'm going!" I said, pushing myself up the stairs.

"Nora," Feeling crackled her voice. "Your dad was murdered six years ago." I really didn't need reminding. "You were attacked at the video store, luckily enough to not need stitches. Some of your friends were trapped inside the high school. It just seems like this town has run into a bit of bad luck and I don't want anything to happen to you because of that family." I was being a horrible daughter, yeah I got it.

"The Argents?"

"People are beginning to talk."

"Since when do you listen to gossip, Mom?" At the viciousness in my voice, Mom flinched. "I wonder what people said about dad's death. Did you listen to them too?" Her mouth parted. "I'm going upstairs."

Once I had reached the top step, I made my shoes slap the wood hard to force a thunk out to rattle my mom. Throwing the door open and slamming it back shut, a pillow hurtled towards me. In my fit of rage, I caught it one-handed.

"You alright?" Patch pushed himself up off my bed. "You look... bedeviled." He gave a wicked wink.

"My mom just told me to stay away from Allison." I scoffed. "Just because one member of her family was a psychotic killer, doesn't mean the whole family is going to go berserk."

"She's just worried about you." Patch said. "It'll blow over soon. Probably just pre-funeral madness."

"Funeral?"

"Kate's funeral is Tuesday."

"So tomorrow?"

A nod. "What, were you not invited?" Patch feigned confusion.

"Of course not." My voice was tight and clipped. "Why did you come over?"

"I'm assuming since Vee dropped you off in the Neon, and you only came home at this time of night, that she was over earlier and heard Lydia scream? Yeah, well, about every other supernatural creature did too." Patch rubbed the length of his stubble-filled jaw. "It wasn't a howl, she isn't a wolf yet."

"But her wound isn't healing!" I protested. "Unless she's turning into something else entirely she is not a werewolf. And she _screamed_. Everyone who heard it describes it as a scream, not a howl, or a roar, or a growl. A scream. As in a human scream." Patch cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ever heard of a supernatural creature known for screaming?"

"A mandrake root?"

Sensing the cynicism, Patch said, "I'll look into it. The possibility of her turning into a werewolf is slim to none. It's not the full moon for a while, so we might have to wait."

"I was talking to Vee about this earlier." I said. "What if her transformation was just delayed by something?"

"Like what?"

"Peter's death? He was the Alpha that gave her the Bite, and since she's not dying then maybe because of the shift in status she's just having a harder time turning." I paused. "What do you think?"

"Like I said before. I think she's something else entirely. I don't think she'll turn into a werewolf if her bite hasn't healed yet."

"We might need an Alpha to determine it. One gave her the Bite, another could ascertain if she's turning or not, right?"

"It's possible." Dark eyes pieced into mine. "Have you seen Derek lately?"

I waited before answering. "About that..."

"Yes. What's up? Want to explain to me why your room smells of him?"

"He was here earlier." I admitted. "Derek came in and tried to seduce me into joining his pack. That's what I thought at first anyway. I told him I didn't want the Bite and he said he wouldn't give it to me unless I asked. Derek said he wanted me as his second-in-command, his female Alpha. Not in the pack, but leading it by his side. I didn't have time to say anything else, Vee came in and he was gone in the blink of an eye." I recounted.

"Derek wants you. As his human female Alpha?"

"That's what he said. I didn't give him an answer, he told me to just think about it. How am I supposed to lead a pack with him, Patch? I barely know what it is about him that I like, and he wants me to be his second-in-command? What kind of responsibilities would I have as 'female Alpha'?" I put bunny ears around _female Alpha._

"Do you think he's lying?"

"I don't know." I said, frustrated. "I can never tell with him. Before he even asked me he tried to seduce me."

"Here." Patch said, reaching around his neck to unclasp the plain silver chain he wore. Since the day I first met him, well, the day I first started to pay attention to him at Lydia's party that fateful full-mooned Friday, he was wearing it. It must've been important to him if it was the only piece of jewellery he wore. Not even a watch on his wrist. He never took it off. "It's pure silver. Helps discern truth from deception."

He reached around the nape of my neck, knuckles brushing the fine hair there, and clipped it on. When the chain fell around my neck and kissed my skin it was still warm. He kept it under his shirt, touching his skin. "Maybe it'll work for you. It doesn't help me anymore."

I fondled it gently between my middle finger and thumb, in awe.

I twisted a small copper ring off the middle finger of my left hand and held it out to him. There was a heart carved into the small underside of the ring. "Here." I said. "You give me something, I give you something."

Patch took it, holding it and silently inspecting it.

"My dad gave it to me about a week before he was killed." I said.

"I can't take this." He flicked his eyes up. "I can't." He thrust it back at me.

I closed my hand over his, folding his fingers over the ring. "Yes you can. Keep it. I don't know if it has any special power. Maybe you can make one with your werefox abilities."

"But... Nora, it was your dad's, he gave it to _you_. I can't take it from you. I only gave you the silver for protection."

"Maybe the copper will give you protection, too."

"Nora." He said my name like a warning.

"Between the two of us – the human and the werefox – who's more likely to be hunted and killed?"

"The human who's being seduced by an Alpha into his pack as his second-in-command." Patch didn't stop there. "The defenceless human with no supernatural powers of her own, only those of her best friend and protector."

"Still," I said, feeling the argument begin to sour. "I want you to have it. I insist." Ever so slightly, Patch nodded and slid the ring into his wedding finger on the right. "So how are you doing? With the breakup. I know you actually like Danny. Not like with Dabria and Rixon."

"Like Peter." Patch whispered. "I did." Eyes glimmering, he raised his head to look at me. "I really did love Danny. I do. Like I did Peter."

"Did you know," Patch said, voice clear and smooth – erasing all emotion from it – quick to change the subject, "When a werefox... consummates... with a human, the human becomes the fox's zombie-like slave? They do anything and everything the werefox asks to keep it happy."

"Didn't you and Danny...?"

"We did." Patch bobbed his head. "He never became my slave because we didn't have sex in the conventional sense." He raised his dark brows, dusky skin toning a light red tint. "The rule doesn't apply when it's man on man. The first girl I fell for was human, despite what Dabria might say. She was made from dust of the earth. In a fight we had gotten into I asked her to burn in hell."

That sounded so unlike Patch I had a hard time believing him. How long ago was this?

"So she committed the worst act: murder. Then she killed herself to make sure she burned in hell, just like I asked." With a horrid, bitter laugh, Patch added. "I should have known better than to think I could love." The instinct to reach out and comfort him with human touch absorbed me. "Now, and then. For my kind, with our deceiving nature, poisonous bite and slave-inducing sex, we can never feel. Love." He said the word in an alien, foreign way, like nobody had ever taught him how to pronounce it, or say it once more with something resembling feeling.

"Patch..." I began. He cut me off, standing up so abruptly I sat down.

"I'm gonna go. It's getting late." He tipped back his head, showing his neck and jaw, to laugh. "I can actually use the front door. Unlike Derek." Giving a playful mock punch against my jaw, clicking his tongue as his knuckles dabbed my skin, he left with a soft click closing the door.

I don't know when I reached out in my sleep for the gun, or even why, I just felt the air break around my hand and the sheets tangled around me tumble with me to crash against the floor. Groaning, I propped myself up to my knees and flicked on the lap with a hard tug of the string. Orange light bathed my dresser. The Smith & Wesson, my Smith & Wesson, my father's gun, was gone—missing.

Two people had been in my room, that I was aware of: Derek and Patch. The gun was empty, no wolfsbane bullets or regular ones. Derek would have no use for a gun, and unless someone else had been in my room while I slept or while I was at school, Patch must've taken it.

* * *

The dream suffocated me. Flashes of irrational images barraged my mind. Patch, leaning in to lick and bite the shell of my ear and whisper sweet things, poking the Smith & Wesson into my gut. Fire licked along my stomach, roaring up to my throat, as blood splashed out, scorching hot, to taint his face red.

A girl wearing a type of moon mask, hair long and silkenly gold, said, through a thick coat of red lipstick, "Patch is mine." Before she erupted into red fur and dropped to all fours. Blackened stubs dug at my ankles. Pain, dull and throbbing, hammered at my feet like slicing swords until I fell into her paws. Dabria's. A tail whipped around my neck. A crack sounded. And I knew I was dead.

* * *

Gasping awake, I threw the bedspread across the room with a strangled cry coursing out of my throat like a bird freed from its cage. Drenches of sweat splotched the mattress. It all happened so fast, reeling past my mind like a train riketting on its tracks. I felt it slip through my fingers, pirouetting just out of reach—out of my line of vision.

The dream had been something horrible. Horrible enough to cause me to forget it straight away. Feeling a headache pump between my ears, I took an iron pill with my breakfast. The alarm clock told me I was late, so I wolfed down the food my mother had prepared before her shower.

Pushing a headband into my hair in a rush, I snatched my backpack off the floor wearing the first thing I could find in my wardrobe: a white tee with a lilac cardigan and yesterday's jeans.

Jogging out the door, kicking it shut, I eyed the slab of cement where my Fiat Spider used to be parked. Money was tight around here. The farmhouse demanded a lot, seven rooms to heat up with little electricity and unreliable power. A mile away from civilization, the farmhouse's bills forced my mom into selling the Spider to afford... well, food. She had even dismissed the housekeeper, Dorothea, who kept me company when she was away.

Finally reaching the small motorway, I stuck one thumb in the air and used the other hand to cup over my mouth and smell my breathe. Not bad. Not good, but the mint gum in my pocket should fix that.

A red Toyota 4Runner parked at the curb. The passenger side window lowered with an automatic hum, showing Marcie Millar behind the wheel. "Car trouble?" She asked, innocently peeking out from the window to silently examine me from head-to-toe.

"Yes, actually." Tentatively, I reached for the car door. "Thank you?"

"What's with the question mark?" Marcie asked, discriminatingly.

"I don't need to tell you we're not the best of friends, now do I?" I put my hands on my hips.

"There it is again. A question. Like you don't already know the answer, nerd. Where's your fat friend?" Vee was classified as curvy. Fat was a bit of a stretch when it came to her, quite frankly if Vee was fat Marcie was anorexic. Which wasn't far off, actually. She and I had given up on dictating people what the difference was. Just because it was a lost cause, didn't mean I was going to tolerate it.

Vee was skipping school, she told me through a text that hadn't arrived until just then, with Patch to look for Lydia.

"Never mind." I slammed the car door shut, rattling something inside. "I'll walk."

"Fine by me." Marcie looked up from examining her nails and pulled away, spitting up dust and stones my way. Her red car crested away until it was a speck of blood against the grey road and milky sky.

I had walked twenty paces before a black, glossy Camaro braked beside me. Tinted windows pulled down, Derek barked, "Get in. I'll take you to school." My options were limited. I could keep trying to hitch a ride with a stranger, which could take longer than I had, or suffer through a ride with Derek and hear him talk about me being his female Alpha. The latter seemed safer, quite frankly. At the speed these cars were zooming by who knows what body part would be cut off. A toe, an arm, my head.

Cursing everything that had led up to this moment internally, I pushed my way inside. Clasping my seatbelt, I moved higher on the seat so my thighs were brushing up against the leather edge.

"What did Marcie want?" He asked, pulling into the upstream of cars, splotches of colour against the gray on the highway.

"To be rude and crass before school. You know, the usual." I wasn't about to tell him, but I was hung up on Marcie. The war between us had started that day she spray-painted "Whore" on my locker. She should of spray-painted her own locker. Up until Stiles and Derek, I had never even kissed anyone. "So are you going to chauffeur me around now? Cause I already have a guy for that." I had Vee. Not that she was a guy. Or that she was my chauffeur. Although it would be nice. I'd have to talk to her about that.

Derek gave a low chuckle. "Not at all. Last night was cut-short." His pleasant voice rang across my skin, brushing intimate parts of me from across the seats. What kind of power did he have over me? "I just wanted to remind you about what I asked."

"Female Alpha." _Right. I had given it a lot of thought._

"Got an answer for me yet?" There was a teasing, playful edge to his voice. His mouth, curved up at the side, promised cruelty as well as sensuality. It was just the right amount of wrong.

"I don't want that responsibility. Leading a pack of werewolves as a human. Even as a self-proclaimed Alpha..."

"You wouldn't be self-proclaimed." Derek chimed in. "I would proclaim you. As my female Alpha." The possessiveness over his words, the way he made it seem like being his was my birthright, a heritage, snapped my mind back to the missing Smith & Wesson. "They'd have no choice but to treat you like they would treat me."

"I don't want to lead a pack." I said. "I don't want to be an Alpha. Human or otherwise. It's just not what's best for me right now. Not that it will be, ever, even an option again. It doesn't make any sense. In the world of werewolves, how can a human lead a pack with the already-recurring Alpha? There can only be one pack leader." Derek cut me a sideways glance. "Would that mean you'd be able to control me like you would them?"

"No. Being the female Alpha of the pack means being below me. I can't tell you what to do, but you can tell them what to do. As a female, I am superior, but not in the way that earns me the right to command you." Derek's innocent green eyes burned a fiery red. "You'd have this. Power."

"Derek, I already said—"

"Are you cold?" He asked, suddenly. Eyes reverting back to spring green. Planting the suggestion in my head, I shivered. "Here," He took the wheel with one hand, reaching across to the back seat where a worn leather jacket was spread over and folded. He dropped it into my lap.

I stared at it. "It's February." I said aloud. Skimming the material with my fingers, brushing it over the seams, the cracks, I brought it up to my chest. "A gift? What's the occasion?"

"It's a wolf custom." Derek said. "By smelling like me, other wolves will know you're mine."

"You say that as if I've already decided."

"Haven't you?"

"You're right." Despite the warmth the black leather jacket promised, the strings attached threatened to choke me. By wearing it, not only was I smelling like Derek, I was dedicating myself to him. Other wolves like Scott and Vee would smell him on me and know not to approach me because I was his.

I tossed the jacket behind me. Ignoring the whimper that climbed out of my throat from the loss of the material in my hands, in my arms, I asked, "Just out of general curiosity, if I was yours... would you be mine?" I made the mistake of looking up at him through my eyelashes.

Bemusement flickered over his sharply-cut features, lighting them up like a candle basking him in its pale orange glow. "Yes." He said. Something wild and dark rummaged through me. I had felt adrenaline before, black and bleak and ready to kill, but the _bump bump bump bump _of my heart was drawn out only because of the hard-edged look Derek gave me. A sugar rush hit my head. Wired and wrought, hot and cold, I gave it the smallest of thought. Derek being mine. Me being Derek's.

He pulled up the Camaro into the school's parking lot.

"I'm not yours to scent." Seatbelt whipping out of my way, I shuffled my backpack off the floor and unlocked the front door. Waving briefly, I gave the door my hip and didn't let myself watch Derek leave.

Marching inside the school, blending into the small crowd gathered at the door, I paced my way to chemistry. Between the administration office and the English corridor, my phone began to gong. "Mom, this isn't a great time right now!"

"It never is." Mom huffed. "Just listen."

"I can't. I'm late for chemistry!"

"Tell Mr. Harris you were with Ms. Morrell, he can't give you detention for that, now, can he?"

"Mom, I'm sorry but I really have to go!" Pushing my way into the science department, while on my phone, I was turning a few heads. And not all of them students. "People are staring, I have to hang up now."

She continued as if I hadn't said anything. "You remember Dorothea's godson, Lionel, right?"

I stopped in my tracks. "I thought you fired Dorothea."

"I didn't fire her." Mom said, defensively. "I had to let her go because of expenses. But we ran into each other this morning at the market." As much as I missed Dorothea and her gray bun coming undone while she scrubbed the sink clean, I didn't like where my mom was going with this. I had a feeling she wasn't just inviting Dorth over for dinner. "She said that her godson, Lionel, and his mom are back in town."

"That's great, mm-hmm, listen, Mom, I'm—"

"I used to be such good friends with Lynn, Lionel's mother, so when I heard Dorth gave me her number. We haven't arranged a time or a date yet, but I invited them over for dinner. I think it will be nice for you and Lionel to catch up. He was your only boyfriend growing up. Remember when you two—" I stopped my mom down memory lane.

"Boyfriend?" I said. "Um, I don't remember that. I remember he was the only boy that was a friend in my childhood but only because when I was little dad used to pay for Dorothea because of his long hours as an accountant."

Mom paused. "Yes, well, I thought it would be nice to have them over. Lynn and Lionel. I did invite Dorth but she didn't seem to want to come, she's very busy nowadays, you know?"

"Yes. She's seeing Dr. Melissa Sanchez since her daughter got implants. Sixty-five is the new twenty-five." I said, impatiently waiting at the door to chemistry, feeling the hefty gaze of all the students already sitting at their desks. "I'm hanging up now."

I sat down at the only empty lab desk available—the one on the opposite row to Scott and Stiles, just in front of Danny and Jackson's bottom desk. Fighting a smile, uncharacteristically, I looked around. It wasn't uncharacteristic for me to fight a smile. It was just uncharacteristic for me to be fighting a smile after something like that happened. As expected, Scott and Stiles had twin dumb-founded expressions, open-mouthed ad stretch-eyed. Jackson just looked bored. Danny gave me a weak smile. Although I knew just about everyone in class, those four were the only ones I really cared enough to look at. Scott and Stiles so close made it harder to avoid.

Wiping my face clean, I tried for a less prissy, more friendly and honestly-open smile at them. The end result was Scott giving a two-fingered wave and grinned, not enough to show teeth but enough to say _everything that happened is in the past. _Expecting to see Stiles' face say _don't worry about it_, I saw him staring down. The lean muscles on his arms were twitching.

He was typing. Half a second later, my phone buzzed. Swiping it open, the text from Stiles said: WERE YOU IN DEREK'S CAR?

With the best timing in the world, Marcie Millar sashayed into class. Wearing heels, jeans and a Banana Republic silk top on my wish-list, she settled into the stool beside me. "Your hair." She said in a tone that just scraped civil. "How many miles did you have to run before someone gave you a ride?" She said, giving a sympathetic look like that explained it.

"Barely a fraction of an inch." I resisted grinding my teeth. "I hitched a ride fine, without you."

"Surprising." Marcie articulated. "You look like something that popped out of the green lagoon. Or a trash can. Both are equally suitable. Take your pick."

"What do you want, Marcie? An easy A? This class won't be that for me. Mr. Harris hates me. I missed half of last semester because of counselling with Ms. Morrell, I've got a lot of catching up to do. The health of your GPA won't last long here."

"Please," She flipped her wrist. "I know that. I also know that you've been counselling with Ms. Morrell for quite a while now."

"What? How?"

"I got a job." She said. Marcie. Got a job. "One of my dad's salesman is married to the front office secretary." Marcie's dad owned the Toyota dealership in town. By extension, his influence ranged even to how the coach ran the lacrosse team. The Millars lived in such an uphill, posh neighbourhood I was sure they'd be shot to death and mugged if ever wandering to the poor side of town. "Now, I file in front office. Once in a while a file falls open and these things just jump out at me."

"You had no choice." I bit out.

"Exactly. Something struck me as odd the other day when I was looking through the H section." Marcie tapped her chin. "You see, I know Derek Hale used to come to this school because his sister did too, and I asked around. His file is missing." She raised her brows. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

My response was on the tip of my tongue. "Why would I?"

"I remember not too long ago seeing you with him. On multiple occasions." She said. And every time Derek saw her, he practically growled at her.

"Why do you even care?" I asked. "Have you got nothing better to do?"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"Fine, just move." She glared with narrowed eyes at me. "If you don't this is the kind of thing you'll hear all year long."

"Year? Haven't you heard? The school's taking a liking to seating charts. Starting today." She ground out. "Which means if you don't _move _right now we'll be stuck together."

She wasn't serious. "I was here first. Ergo, you move."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Neither can you." I shot back.

"Now that that's been established. Go. Away!" Marcie was panicking, staring around wildly to see if anyone would offer up their seats. "Is anyone going to move for me?" She called out to the hushed classroom. "Well? Nobody!"

Mr. Harris strode into the room.

Marcie and I knocked back our stools in a futile last desperate attempt to get away from each other.

"Sit down." Mr. Harris barked. "Seating charts are in order from now on." He moved a sheet of paper with blocks to write our names on. "Hope you like the person you're sitting next to," He drawled in that flat, wry tone like hitting steel and expecting stone. Marcie stared. And whoa, if looks could kill. Her look was part disgust part pleading. She looked like she being sat on a bunsen burner.

Baring her teeth, she ripped the paper out of the hands of the girl that handed it to her further down our table. "You'll be seeing them a lot." Mr. Harris finished, captioning my pain. Out of pride neither of us left the seats. Although I'm pretty sure she would have if there was another one available. _Too late._

* * *

"We haven't found anything yet." Vee said after school. "Where ever Lydia's run off to... she's doing a pretty good job of staying hidden. Oh, Patch says hi." Vee swerved the Neon away from an incoming white truck, blaring its horn at us for idling between lanes. She was driving me home. At the looks of it she was going to drive me off a cliff. At the look I was giving her, Vee said, "What? I was going to make a left."

"Where is Patch?"

"I think he went home after our search. Did you make up a good excuse for why I didn't go into school today?" Vee asked. My job was making sure they didn't call her parents. They didn't. I told the front office Vee Sky wasn't going to be in today as part of the searching party the police were making for Lydia Martin. If they called the Beacon Hills Deputies they'd find out I was lying, my excuse was that she was signing up and her parents told me to tell them they were okay with it. Mr. and Mrs. Martin were very concerned.

"Yes. You're covered." I responded. "So guess who's seated next to Marcie Millar for chemistry until the end of the school year? No guesses. Fine I'll give you a clue. She's in a purple Dodge Neon and royally pissed." Vee gave me a sympathetic look. "She also wanted to ask me why Derek Hale's file was missing."

"How'd she know?" Vee asked.

"She got a job filing in the front office. She said because I was seen with him, more than once, she thought I'd know."

"Guess you've got to get it back from Ms. Morrell."

"Yeah." I said. "There's just something in it she doesn't want me to see. If it were supernatural it wouldn't be in the file so it's got to be something normal."

"I doubt Ms. Morrell cares if you find out he had some DUIs in high school."

"Derek? DUI? Probably not."

"Well, you'll only know when you see it for yourself." Vee said. "It can't be that bad. But when you do get it, make sure Marcie doesn't get her hands on it. Maybe pull it out."

"I don't even know what it is," I said, "Now I'm going to take it out so Marcie doesn't know about it."

"She doesn't deserve to know. And what if it's something supernatural. Like if he had a basketball injury and healed instantaneously." Vee argued.

"I doubt Derek played basketball."

"Think he writes poetry in secret like you? Or plays the cello? Maybe he even likes baroque!"

"Vee!"

"Speaking of boyfriends," Vee licked her lips.

"We weren't speaking of boyfriends. Derek Hale is not my boyfriend. Since when did you think he was? Vee? Answer me!"

"I smelled him in your room last night." She made a twisted apologetic face. "I can't help these things."

"Vee!"

"Noooo. You do not get the right to be mad at me for something I can't control."

"You said you've been practising." I arched my brows. "Am I really to believe you smelled Derek in my bedroom by accident? Or were you snooping?"

"I'm more upset that you didn't tell me what happened between you two."

"Nothing happened!"

"Liar."

"I don't even know what I feel for him, I'm going to tell other people about it?" I waited for Vee's reply. It never came. "Moving on from Derek, my mom called this morning to tell me Lionel Parnell is back in town."

"Dorothea's godson?"

"Yeah. Mom invited him and his mom over for dinner. I heard about their divorce."

"Me too." Said Vee. "Lionel Parnell. That kinda rhymes. What are you going to wear to this meet-cute?"

"Meet what?"

"Meet-cute. Sounds like your mom's inviting them over to set you two up. Just dinner? Sounds fishy. Are they moving back into Beacon Hills?

"Permanently. My mom knows I went out with Stiles."

"Key word in that sentence is 'went'. Past tense. You said she liked Matt, right?"

"Yeah?" I prompted.

"She lied. She wants you and Lionel to do the do. Probably has it planned with Mrs. Parnell too. Ugh, what an ugly name. Maybe you should go for Mrs. Grey-Parnell."

"Vee." I said, bordering on the psychotic sense. "You're over-thinking it."

"How does Mrs. Grey-Hale sound?"

Despite the fact I liked it, I said, "Vee... you were saying something about boyfriends..." I took a stab in the dark to change the subject. It took.

"He's tall enough for me, lanky, Irish, has an unorthodox name like mine and is hard-edged sexy like Patch. Okay maybe not like Patch, nobody's that gorgeous."

"Patch set you up with Rixon?" I asked skeptically.

Vee nodded. "Ya-huh."

"Yay! I love Rixon, he's so fun. Wait, backpedal. I thought you hated Patch."

"Hate is a strong word." Vee said. "I dislike him thusly. Only because he seems shady. As in too mysterious for his own good. My opinion of him grew when he hooked me up with his superhot best friend."

"You do know Rixon used to date Patch, right?"

"Another reason to dislike Patch. He broke Rixon's heart. But Rixon isn't even bi. Patch was a special case. I understand it. Nobody's _that_ hot." Vee pulled up into the farmhouse's driveway. "Home, sweet home."

"Thanks for the ride, Vee."

"Anytime, babe."

"Are you going out to look for Lydia again with Patch?" I asked. She nodded. "I'll tell the front office you caught a cold from today. They might call your parents but just tell them you were delirious with the fever and wound up in the Preserve. Patch might have even saved your life."

"Stop trying to make me like him."

"But you're the only person who doesn't."

"For a reason." Argued Vee.

"That reason's called craziness."

"No, it's called woman's intuition."

* * *

A figure in my room, ebony black in contrast to the familiar oak panelling on the slope ceiling above me. A shiver slid over me. "Patch? I thought you went home." He looked up, eyes boring into mine. They lacked their familiar twinge of humour. My hand slipped over to where I kept my Smith & Wesson. I took long, leaping strides to put the bed between us.

My hand met wood. Only wood. No gun.

"Nora it's just me." Derek raised his hands, lifting the leather of his sleeves up to his ears.

"Why were you quiet for so long? And why are you in my bed again so early. I thought you only came at night." The shock drained from my voice. I wished I could pretend to be startled and demand for him to leave but Derek was worming his way under my skin. The habit of entering my bedroom though the window was going to have to break when he ran into it face-first. By this time tomorrow, it would be closed.

"It smells... different in here." He said, like that was a good enough explanation. "I just came to check up on you." Derek took a step forward, turning the bend of my bed.

"We've seen each other... three times, today?"

"It hasn't been enough." He slammed his body into mine. The backpack slid off my shoulder and sagged to the floor. Instinctively, my arms looped his neck. Lips twisted to part under mine, I nibbled at his bottom lip. Lupine claws danced dangerously at my sides, teasing downwards with a growling sip to his voice. Flushed against his hips, my thigh met his. Narrowing me into the wall, he crashed me into it with a powerful thrust and raised his hands, curving his fingers to not snag my clothes with his claws. Thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts, I whimpered pliantly in his mouth. Derek broke the kiss, turning his face. Blue light flashed and a gleam of fang caught in the light peaking up from my drawn drapes.

"Derek?"

"I wanted to know if you had made a decision yet." He said. Dropping his hands, his fingers plucked my wrist up. With one thick digit, he obliquely traced the slash on my wrist: my birthmark.

Ripping my wrist out of his hold, I pushed him back. He didn't move. I rammed my elbows into his gut and moved momentum with my knees to his. "Move! Go! Out!"

"Nora..." He brought a hand up to brush my hair. Lips brushing together, I sank my teeth down onto his lip. Hopefully drawing blood. Shocked, but not at all dismayed, he brought the same hand that stroked my hair to his lip. It came away bright red. Smiling predatorily with a hungry, dark look blossomed in his blown pupils, he reached for another kiss.

"What's wrong with you?" I shouted. "Why do you want me? Me, of all people? My father was a hunter! I shot you in the back with a wolfsbane bullet to get in good with the woman who burned down your house." Each revelation was a punch in the gut. A low blow. "Why do you want me, as a human because I will never be a werewolf, as your female Alpha?" I paused. "Second-in-command." I added, in mockery. "Derek, just tell me why."

He didn't say anything. Derek looked down at my shoes, staring a hole in them, with stretched eyes. His lips, cruelly sensual, were pressed into a tight-white unforgiving line.

"You know what it sounds like to me?" I choked out a mirthless laugh. "It sounds more like you want me as your mate."

In response, Derek kissed me. Featherlight with the promise of a thousand touches, a thousand caresses This is what I had in store for me if I joined Derek. It was too soon to call it love, and lust was an understatement. Something in between. Derek committed a trail of shivering, silky kisses across my lips and down my jaw. Peppering my neck with licks and bites of equal measure, Derek paused in particular delicious stroke of his brilliantly broad tongue. Wolf fangs scraped the length of my neck, from the tip of the junction where chin met neck to my collarbone. Claw-tipped fingers pulled the clothes off my shoulder. The dark side of the moon.

Along with the promise of the sweetness, the trust, and the promises of rubber knees and sweaty palms came the incontestable force of bloodlust. With an Alpha, all that power and all that quench for blood, would bring pain and destruction beyond what I could endure. It had the capacity to twist and bend and wreck my mind and body to limits beyond a werewolf, beyond a werefox. An Alpha, with the power it had, would be hunted and targeted and challenged. A female Alpha had things like cubs and heirs to worry about. Admitting I wanted to be Derek's female Alpha was admitting I wanted Derek's cubs. Along with that came whatever beast would challenge my dominance or my submissiveness. Werewolves would want to conquer me. In a pack, wolves go for the weakest link in the herd. I would be that for Derek. Which meant I wasn't strong enough to handle the things being in his pack as second-in-command, as a human female Alpha, would be thrown at me.

Unless I was ready to admit to all these things, and face them, I couldn't be in Derek's pack.

He pulled away from me, nostrils flaring. Derek had smelled my hesitation. I knew he wasn't going to deny what I had realized. He couldn't. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I sighed. Derek only left when I was steady on my feet. But he left a black heap on my bed. His black leather jacket.

* * *

The jacket was folded over my arm the next day as I bounded the last couple of steps into the kitchen. Mom poured me a cup of coffee. Nudging her chin to the jacket, she asked, "Who's is that? Doesn't look like something Vee would wear?"

I stuttered, "Patch left it from when he was over. I was going to hand it back to him this morning."

"Oh, that's nice of you. Most people would just keep it, but not you. Not my daughter." She pressed her lips to my forehead oddly, giving me an awkward kiss. "I'm so glad to have you as one."

"Mom?" I took a step back. "What's going on?"

"I heard on the radio some kid from your school was working the graveyard shift. Someone dug up a woman's dead body and stole the liver." Mom said.

"What? Ew."

"Lynn was hysterical on the phone. With all the whacky stuff happening to Beacon Hills, she's not sure it's safe enough for little Lionel." Mom pursed her lips. "Her words not mine. She already moved into the apartment."

"Yeah, about that. Mom. Have you planned the dinner yet, or...?" I trailed off, waiting to hear her finish the sentence.

"Oh, no, not yet. But Lionel is going to Beacon Hills High and Lynn was hoping you could show him around. As one of your oldest friends, Nora, I think you owe him that courtesy."

"When's he moving to the high school?"

"Sometime next week. They'll be over for dinner soon, honey. Aren't you excited to see him?"

"Nostalgic, actually." I mumbled. Vee honked her horn.

"Tell Vee I said hi." Mom said.

"I will," I closed the door behind me and hopped off to jump in the Neon. "Before you say anything, the jacket's Derek's. He left it on Monday."

Vee raised her palms. "Not judging. More important things to talk about."

"Like the missing liver from that dead woman's body."

Vee nodded. "The liver is the juiciest part of the body. Werewolves kill when they first turn. Do you think Lydia's turning and doesn't want to kill anybody?"

"So many things wrong with that. A, my mom told me there was a high schooler there too. It would take an extraordinary amount of self-restraint to stop from killing him or her. And B, it's not even a full moon. That's not until next Tuesday. I've been recording them."

"Yes," Vee said. "But Lydia's a special case. For whatever reason, she's turning later. Her Bite didn't heal at a werewolf healing level. Why would she turn like a werewolf if she doesn't heal like one?"

"Maybe she's not a werewolf altogether."

"Then what? A werefox."

"They're still affected by the full moon. Patch's had years of practice."

"Then what? What does Lydia have to do with the liver?" Vee said, exasperated. "It's not a coincidence that she goes missing and then a dead body is ravaged for parts. And the liver of all things. She ate it. She's turning and she ate it. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

* * *

Mr. Harris moved lazily to slap a pop quiz test paper in front of every student in his class. Once one was distributed to you, you could begin. I tried to ignore Marcie leaning over on her elbow as I answered the questions smoothly from memory.

"This is a pop quiz, Mr. Stilinski." Mr. Harris said, snapping my head up instinctively and shattering my concentration. "If I hear your voice again I may be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career."

"Can you do that?" Stiles demanded slowly, dumbly.

"Well there it is again. Your voice. Triggering the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student repeatedly and violently." That earned him a few chuckles. "I'll see you at three for detention." Stiles opened his mouth wide. Scott turned around. "You too, Mr. McCall?"

Scott turned right back around. "No, sir." He answered.

I kept my pencil gliding over the test, a rhythmic outpouring of facts scratched onto paper. Marcie's breathe warmed my ear. I jabbed the end of my pencil up.

"Ow!" She hissed, grabbing her cheek and rubbing it.

"Stop cheating!" I whispered in an undertone.

Marcie moved back to her own test, nibbling her pencil and sliding it into her mouth only to move it back out with a pop. Realizing Mr. Harris was watching with restraint in his eyes, I looked down. But not before I saw his Adam's apple bob and him wipe his brow with his sleeve. Marcie giggled.

Marcie's knee bumped mine.

Looking up, annoyed, I followed to where her finger was pointing.

Jackson was cupping his nose. Danny stared, looking concerned for his friend. Abruptly, Jackson scooted back his stool and dashed out of the class with a black tracery leaking out between his fingers. I shared a look with Marcie, who seemed to remember we hated each other and went back to our individual tests.

* * *

After class, Derek stood waiting for me in front of my locker. He wasn't wearing leather. He wore a black jacket with the lapels thrown outwards, studded with buttons. A single zipper ran across his left breast and the tagline of a brand name was on his left shoulder. Under the jacket, he wore a gray soft-material shirt with three buttons going down the black accented neckline. Stubble ran down his black sideburns, under his chin and over his top lip to arc around.

He turned for me to follow him. I nodded when he cut a sideways glance at me, craning his neck to look over his shoulder.

I past Matt in the hallway. He was standing in front of his locker, holding his camera with the strap around his neck. Allison was a locker apart from him. The funeral dress hung in her hands. They smiled to each other and looked down simultaneously.

Derek brought me outside. He turned the corner of the school so we were backed by bricks and met with forest ringing all around. "Why aren't you wearing my leather jacket?" He asked, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets, lifting his eyebrows in concern.

"When I put it on, it means I've decided." I said, remembering I left it in Vee's car.

"Nora, something's happening to Jackson. I gave him the Bite but his body's fighting it. I caught him in the bathroom bleeding this black ink or goo."

"Why are you telling me? I haven't decided if I'm your female Alpha or not."

"Jackson hasn't decided if he wants to be in my pack or not, either. But I still want you to keep an eye on him. Not as an Alpha. And not as a favour for me. Jackson was once your friend, if he still isn't. Do it for him."

"That sounded practised."

"And another thing." He rushed. "About my pack. I'm going to give someone the Bite. That boy who found the woman's liver stolen last night."

"You bit the kid that was tending to the graveyard?"

"Not yet. Do you know him?"

"My mom told me. I didn't even know it was a him. Who is it?"

"Isaac Lahey. I'm going to give him the Bite." Derek said. "He was the one who found the dead woman like that. He was questioned by the police."

Not trusting my ears, I asked, "Isaac? Isaac Lahey? You're going to turn Isaac Lahey—Vee's date to the Formal—into a werewolf?"

"Yes." He said simply.

The image of Isaac turning into an actual wolf, covered in that soft, curly hair, filled my mind. But I snapped back to reality and saw him with dripping fangs and golden eyes instead. Claws ready to sink into any living thing. Bile rose in my throat.

"I'm going to be sick."

"Nora, wait." Derek caught me. In vertigo, the world tipped and my boot was snagged on something. I brushed off Derek, shouldering past him.

"I can't believe you!"

"He asked for it." Derek assessed me silently. "He asked for the Bite. His father beats him. Isaac asked for the Bite to defend himself."

"You're going to let Isaac kill his father?"

"No!"

"Let go." I shimmied off the hand that was gripping my forearm. "I have nothing to say to you, let go."

"Nora. Isaac's father is beating him. He's abusing him. Isaac asked for the Bite so I'm giving it to him." Derek said, rationally.

"For your own gain. You don't want to help him, you just want power. One more member to your pack. Just like Peter. He bit Scott and Vee."

"Unwillingly. I'm giving them a choice. Isaac said yes."

"I still don't have to like it."

"I didn't say you had to." Derek paused, releasing my arm. "I'll let you adjust to it. I'll help him, Nora. I'll teach Isaac and he won't be hurt anymore. But I also wanted to tell you... to keep playing the Argents. It's going to come in handy someday."

"By this time it's not playing," I said, deflated, "I'm so used to it it's real."

* * *

Vee drove me home, where I proceed Isaac being a werewolf. I didn't tell her Derek was going to give Isaac the Bite, or that his father was beating him. I didn't mention Derek at all, I only took the leather jacket that had been warmed in the car. I did tell her that I was going to be playing the Argents again. But I wasn't playing them. Not really. Not anymore.

It took some adjusting. Isaac being a werewolf. What Derek was doing, giving the people he wanted to Bite a choice, was certainly better than Peter forcibly turning Vee and Scott. Isaac only wanted the Bite to not be scared of his father. But with it, with the power of a wolf, what would he do to his dad the next time he tried to hurt him? Would Derek let it get as far as shedding blood?

A dark though scribbled across my mind.

If I was the human female Alpha, I could command him to not hurt his father.

I didn't dwell on it. Instead I thought back to what Vee said. She told me she, Scott and Stiles were going out to look for Lydia with Patch. She told me to stay in tonight, in case Lydia was actually turning and managed to hurt me in the hunt.

If Lydia was turning that was two new werewolves by tomorrow. Vee, Scott, Lydia, Isaac and Jackson was beginning to turn too, although the black blood was a bad sign. Even Derek didn't know what that meant. And if a doctor was going to examine him to see if he needed professional help that wouldn't be of any use. It was supernatural. Not science.

There was nothing _I _could do to help Jackson stop bleeding black.

There was nothing _I _could do to help find Lydia.

There was nothing _I _could do to help Isaac defend himself.

There was nothing _I _could do to help anyone.

My phone chirped. "Hello?" I answered on demand.

"Hi. It's Allison." She said. "We just finished Kate's funeral and in the reception I overheard something. I was just calling to ask you not to go with my father tonight. I know he and a few other hunters and leaving to go find Lydia. They think she's turning."

"And you don't?"

"I don't know what to think." Allison said. "I really hope she's not but who else would harvest that liver?"

"I don't know."

"So... yeah. That was it. Just don't go out with my father tonight, please. I don't know what he has planned but I know you'll be one of the first people he calls."

"Okay." I said. "So how are you doing?"

"Scott and I are..."

"Pretending to be broken-up. Yeah, I know. I'll keep your secret and won't tell your dad. Don't worry." I said.

"Thank you." Allison said. "How are you doing?"

"Good. Peter's dead, so that's good. When you guys find Lydia it'll mean no more random events like missing livers. Hopefully Scott and Vee can teach her how to control herself."

"They'll have to teach each other," Allison agreed. "It was nice talking to you. But I'm... I'm gonna go."

"Okay." I said awkwardly.

"Okay." I heard her smile. "Bye."

I ignored her. When Chris called, I answered immediately. "Hello."

"Nora." He said in his deep voice. "I think it's time you finally meet the reinforcements that have come for Kate's funeral."

"Like who?" I asked.

"My father, Allison's grandfather."

"There's just a small problem. My gun is, uh, I must have misplaced it when I was trying to hide it from my mom."

"No problem." Chris said. "Leveque and Ulrich will bring you some weapons when they come to pick you up at your farmhouse. See you soon."

They gave me until nine o'clock, where my mother was over at a friend's house. Leveque pulled up an SUV into the driveway with Ulrich in the passenger seat. Both smiled warmly and kindly at me. I was wearing jeans with an elastic waistband, tennis shoes and a black shirt with my jean jacket over it.

"Hi," Ulrich said.

"Hello." Rumbled Leveque.

"Hi." I said back, opening the doors to the back seats. A duffle bag was planted in the middle of them. Buckling myself in, I rummaged through it. "We won't have to drive very long. My house is pretty close to the Preserve."

"You're right." Said Ulrich, who wheeled the car to a stop. "Take what you need and get out to meet Gerard."

"Gerard?" I asked, looking up from the duffle bag.

"Chris's dad." Ulrich wrinkled his smooth brow. "He didn't tell you?"

"He didn't tell me his name."

"Chris insists you bring the cattle prod." Ulrich lifted it up to me.

It was a cylinder-shaped black tool with ridges circling it every five or seven centimetres and a steel tip. "It electrocutes when you press this." Ulrich leaned my finger against a button on the side. "And flicks out when you whip it to your side."

"Anything else I need?"

"I'd take the stungun or the Taser. But they're pretty much the same."

I propped the Taser in the waistband of my stretchy jeans and climbed out of the car. Chris, Ulrich, Leveque and two other men I didn't know were waiting for me. The other man behind Chris was one of the hulking hunters who beat up Jackson, not Stiles. The elderly one stepped up to grasp my non-lethal weapon-wielding hand.

He was in a black French cap that covered most his head, except for the white fraying the sides of his scalp. And although he was old and wrinkled, he looked strong despite the rain jacket that made him bulkier. Beady eyes bore into mine. "You must be Nora Grey." He kissed my hand. "I've heard so much about you from my son."

"Only good things I hope." I said nervously.

"I'm so sorry for your lose." He said, bowing his head and resting his eyes closed.

"That was a long time ago. I should be saying that to you. Kate was Allison's aunt. Doesn't that make her your daughter? Or is that on her mother's side?"

"No, no," Gerard said. "Kate was my daughter. A lose is a lose, no matter how long ago. And one of ours is always meaningful. Even if I didn't know him, I'm sure your father was an excellent hunter." I shut my eyes to thank him silently. "As I hear you are."

"She played Derek Hale and shot him right in back with a wolfsbane-laced bullet." Ulrich chimed.

"And helped kill the Alpha." Chris added with a significant nod.

"Let's hope you live up to this reputation, Nora." Gerard said, a civilised notch above smirking. "Tonight," He stage-whispered, "We hunt."

Chris, with ice blue eyes and frazzled brown hair, threw an arm around my shoulders. He was wearing a beige type jacket with a gray hood over a brown sweater and same work jeans Gerard was also in. "Lydia's gone missing." He said.

"She was Bitten by Peter, do you think she's turning?"

"No. It's not a full moon." He replied. "We're hunting something else."

"A stray." Gerard whispered in my ear. Ulrich giggled.

"A stray wolf in town?"

"That's what stole the liver from the dead woman's body." Leveque said. "And what just attacked a man in an ambulance who was having a heart attack. News just hit."

"He can't be far from there." I said.

"Then we have to hurry." Gerard drawled.

"We set up traps all over the perimeter." Ulrich said. "Leveque and I should know when they're set off."

A branch snapped in the distance. Shrubbery was rustled, shaken not by wind. More purposeful. "Did you hear that?" I asked Leveque, stepping up to grab his shoulder.

"Trying to scare me, Grey?" He asked, mockingly.

"No. It sounds... like..."

"Rushing water. We get a lot of rivers down by this area. There's one beside a foundation of rocks where we hid a trap around this boulder." Ulrich said. "It's about..."

"Running distance from here. In fact," Leveque tipped my head up, "You can see it from here if you look close enough."

"What are we looking at?" Gerard asked.

The moon shimmered a thousand encrusted diamonds into the small expanse of water, winking at me through the gaps in the rocks. Like lights blinking out, one was blocked by a rushing figure. Then another, in successive order until a snap sounded.

"That's a trap." Leveque said. "Run. To the river."

With my long legs, I made it past Ulrich but struggled to elbow around Leveque. Chris was in the lead, with the hulking hunter behind Gerard who was on Chris's tail. I shouldered past Leveque, stepping into his path to slow him down. I heard Ulrich laugh behind me.

Muscles tightening, I forced them past the clearing beside the hulking hunter. Swinging my arms in half-circles, I raced past him and Gerard to Chris's side.

A dot of glowing white caught my attention. The moon. It was full and bright in the dark night sky. The full moon was next Tuesday. There was no way it was... I pointed up at the sky for Chris to see. He looked up and widened his eyes.

"February," He said, through the burn of running. "Two full moons."

My first thought was Vee. But knowing she was with Scott and Stiles made me know she would be safe. Even if she Shifted.

Chris dropped down a slab of rock. It hung there. The werewolf, the stray. Tied up by its hands, he dangled his legs to try to catch enough momentum to swing. In a dirty coat and jeans, with straggled fleecy hair just above his collar bone, he bared his yellow fangs. Wind broke around me as I made the jump to land on the bed of leaves in patches on the ground.

Gerard followed, slowing down to carefully step over the rock. Leveque, Ulrich and the hulking hunter waited until he dropped to follow suit. A large tree branch was what the wire was roped to, biting into his wrists.

Chris circled his kicking form until all the hunters arranged themselves around it. It because it was more animal than human. Wolf eyes ochre but not glowing, with a pronounced brow and claws with fangs, it continued to struggle against the trap. Leveque and Ulrich stood above the ground, pressed against the ledge of rock. The hulking hunter left to check the perimeter around, but winged back to the far right of Chris, closer to the river.

Gerard positioned himself opposite Chris, facing the werewolf's back. The grip I held on the electric cattle prod tightened. Steady amps of electricity prevented a werewolf from turning. Kate taught me that.

Growling and snapping, it waited until Chris whipped his prod out and slashed it into the thing's chest. Electricity flew, sparking and running, zapping until it was a he again with several stringed cries of anguish. He bowed his grime-layered head, pain radiating off him, sketched into his features and the twisted shape of his body.

My phone was buzzing to life. Patch left a text telling me a scent doesn't change. The thing that stole the liver from the dead woman in the graveyard has the same smell as a newly deceased guy in an ambulance who had a heart attack. The scent is not the same as Lydia's. Vee confirmed this with a text of her own, also saying that Stiles found Lydia naked just outside the clearing beside the hit ambulance. Stiles texted me this while I was reading the others. Gerard was staring. I lowered my phone and pocketed it.

"Who are you?" Chris demanded.

The werewolf glared.

"What are you doing here?" Chris asked, voice holding more authority, more demanding and startling a violent undercurrent.

"Nothing. Nothing," The werewolf stammered shaking his head. "I swear." He was gasping heavily. Gerard stepped closer, tenatively.

"You're not from here, are you?" Chris asked. The wolf remained silent. I raised my arm. The tip of the cattle prod ignited to life, strewing sparks of electricity licking along the patch of flesh available through his arms lifted. The current shook my arm but I forced myself to keep steady, glaring and scooping my foot closer to slash the weapon up his cheekbone. The sudden move crackled whips of lightning out to stab his face.

"Answer him when he talks to you." The cold hardness in my voice was that of a familiar stranger.

"No." His cheeks spasmed. "No, I came... I came looking for the Alpha." The instinct to plough the cattle prod deeper down his throat wavered my arm. "I heard he was here, that's all." Chris and Gerard shared a look.

Skimming the tip of the cattle prod along his clothes, close enough to ignite the tip flaming red but not close enough to draw any pain, I spat, "He's lying! The Alpha's dead." I jutted my head backwards. "We killed him." Fear glinted in his eyes.

"Look, I didn't do anything. I didn't hurt anyone. No one living." He was begging. "He wasn't alive in the ambulance. He wasn't I swear!" He choked out.

Gerard cocked his head. "Lady," He tipped his head to me, an imaginary hat of respect, then stretched it to look behind him at Leveque and Ulrich, not too far away. "Gentlemen! Take a look at a rare sight." He glanced back at the werewolf, then asked Chris, "Wanna tell them what we caught?"

"An Omega." Chris said.

"Alpha-Beta-Omega." I whispered, dreaded, to myself.

"The lone wolf." Gerard added. "Possibly kicked out of his own pack," He said, with a hint of repulsion towards the vagabond. "Or the survivor of a pack that was hunted down. Maybe even murdered. Possibly," He raised dark brows. "Alone by his own choice. Certainly not a _wise _choice." Gerard moved away to unwrap the hilt of a sword under clothe placed on the boulder beside the hulking hunter. It looked old, but was polished to shining perfection. The handle was a faded-brown leather. He drew out the impossibly long and thin blade, brandishing it, and said, "Because as I am about to demonstrate," Gerard looked like he was toying with the wolf, twirling the blade in his hands. Chris was speechless. The Omega was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Static prickled the hair of my arms. That was not because of the tension. It was probably because of the cattle prod. "An Omega rarely survives," His fingers closed around the hilt, going yellow and losing blood with the tight grip. "On his _own_." He swung the blade to his shoulder, reminding me of Ulrich's knife-throwing lessons. Curving his body and using the momentum to blow the sword back around the silver caught the moonbeams and pieced through the Omega's body.

I clung to Chris's arm, fingernails tattooing half-circles into his skin. The horror gripped me by the nape of my neck and ground the feeling into a hard bite, spreading through my body.

More than just blood swarmed out of the Omega's stomach. Strips of redhot flesh, tissue spewed out to splat against the floor and spill in piles of banging red. His head lolled forward, arms going slack against the wire. A scream clawed my throat, wanting, needing, begging for release.

Gerard was gasping, lifting his sword to his stomach. Queasiness hooked talons into my torso. Tears stung the back of my eyes. I had to be strong. I had to be strong! _I had to be strong._ This was war. And I was the inside man.

Chris stomped over to Gerard. "We have a Code." He growled in his father's ear. Gerard, dumb-founded, shook his head at his son.

"Not when they murder my daughter." He planted the sword into a root of stone. He turned. "No Code. Not anymore. From now on these things are just bodies waiting to be cut in half. Are you listening?"

"Yes." I said. But he wasn't just talking to me. He was talking to Chris, Leveque, Ulrich and every other hunter in Beacon Hills.

"Because I don't care if they're wounded and weak." _Jackson._ "Or seemingly harmless." _Scott. _"Begging for their life with the promise that they will never ever hurt anyone." _Vee. _"Or some desperate lost soul with no idea what they're getting into." _Isaac. _"We find them. We kill them." He turned again, yelling at the moon. "_We kill them all_."

funeral and in the reception I overheard something


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: SHAPE SHIFTED

Vee's head hit a rock. The snap that came distorted her features. Wounded, the hair trailing down her jaw rebounded back into her skin. Canines, bone white against her lips, flickered back inside her mouth with the sound of a butterfly's wings flapping. Ridges of her brow smoothed over, creased, and flattened against her face. Eyes pin-wheeling until the gold dismembered into vivid green. Vee scolded the man above her, wearing not her wolf mask, but her human face.

"So young." The man said, overcome by a washing wave of pity for the innocent teenage girl. "I hate it when they're as young and beautiful as you." His voice held the notes of a soulful person who has lived and is on the verge of letting go. Rough but firmly tender in the way the pronunciation rolled off his tongue.

I couldn't see his face. Only the back of his naked head.

"Go to hell!" Vee spat blood onto his shoes. Some trailed over her lips. With a sigh, the man stared her down. A wild wind rustled his overcoat. Although it was buttoned, the coat's edges at the back of the man's knees fluttered in the roaring blast.

He raised his arms.

"_No!_" I stumbled forward, fighting against the wind to get to Vee before the man lowered the full-force of whatever was in his hands, down. Leaves crackled under my knees. Pushing forward, hands slapping the hard-packed earth, I crawled, shakily. Cold adrenaline burned through my veins.

Vee scampered to her feet. One hand curled around the trunk of a tree, whilst she raised the other flourishing her claws.

The man took a distinct step back.

Growls tearing out her throat, Vee charged forward. Opaque claws swinging to catch him, the man had to duck to avoid a nasty slash to the face. Vee sliced upwards, flicking a button of his coat up to splat in shrubbery.

With the man down, on his knees and the thing he was holding shielded by the lapels of his coat, Vee scurried away in a sprint. She saw right through me, to the other end of the Preserve. I struck my arms out for her, to turn with her, to run with her. Vee made a beeline for my left, daring a look behind her. The man was getting to his feet, the blade he held scattering moonlight.

A whimper escaped Vee's lupine throat. Her footsteps faded into the distance demoralizingly fast, supernaturally fast. Her tangled blonde hair canted behind her.

A war cry raged from the man. He turned so the moonlight was shining on the left proportion of his face. Enough for me to see it was Gerard, holding his thin, sharp sword. He cut through to my right, sword raised behind him to slash at any twisted, knotted branch grasping at him.

I ran after them, feeling myself get lost in the dead woods at night. The sounds of animals rarely came. An owlish hoot to my left, a chirp to my right. The howls I heard were promisingly close. Twigs popped under my bare feet, slicing up like knives to carve scars into the soles. "Vee!" I screamed again and again without a response. "Vee, please!" What I was begging for was beyond rational thinking. I didn't want to be alone. Asking her to show herself to find me was probably what Gerard wanted.

Ringing perforated the silent night. Bells. I followed the sound, stumbling through the dry roots and underpaths without moonbeams shining the way.

When the sound was so close it was popping my ears, I stopped. Pressing the flat of my back to a tree, I peeked behind it. Gerard broke through the clearing, cut down the bells and rustled some leaves. He brought it to his nose to smell.

Grinding them between his fingers, he dropped the mush of leaves and dashed away to my right. I followed him, trotting close. Keeping my eyes trained to the centre of his back, making every curve and twist he made to reach the end of the short, narrow path. The scenery began to drastically change.

My bare feet knocked hollowly against pavement. Shoes were on them. Puddles licked my ankles, throwing up dirty water to lap against the pantlegs of my jeans. Beacon Hills. _I'm in Beacon Hills._ No reason came to mind why I knew it. Maybe because I had lived here my whole life.

Shapes warped around me. Dark shadows broke free from the cracks in the cement to burn and scorch the denim that offered the only protection for my legs. Laughing raked icy nails down my spine, slithering across my skin. A witch's cackle sounded from behind me. Having lost Gerard, I turned.

Ms. Morrell, hair slick and black down to her waist, wearing a charcoal suit smiled. Her hand was outstretched, for a handshake. I stepped forward. Something materialized between her fingers. A pouch. "Hello, Nora." She said. "I'm so glad we're finally meeting. I heard your dad died. I'm so sorry for your lose." Purple powder spilled out from the leather pouch. It spread through the pavement, twined and fluttered in the wind until it spelt out _Your Lose._

I turned to run again. A black feather swam up to my face, brushing and tickling my neck. Swatting it away, my feet were rooted in place. Watching the feather fall to the ground, swaying and twisting like sycamore in the wind. Shadows gulped it down.

"Nora." Danny choked. "Nora, help." A white blindfold was over his eyes, tied at the back of his head. His knees smacked the cement. A pained whine flew from his throat. "I can't see. I can't see!"

I dropped beside him, throwing an arm to his back. "Danny, it's okay." I cooed. Placing my hand to his armpit, raising him, I said, "We have to get out of here." I looked around wildly for an exit. Danny squealed.

"Please." He whispered. "Please don't hurt me."

I recoiled from his words. "Danny? I'm not going to hurt you. Danny it's me, Nora. Danny?" Shaking his shoulders, his head lolled back and forth. Fingers dug into my shoulders, talon-like and hooked into the skin.

"_Rah_!" A grovelled voice roared. Air split around my body. Whistling in my ears. I landed on my backside, spinning until my foot hit a wall of red bricks. "_Watch._" A tauntingly familiar voice said. "_Watch and learn._" It spoke to my mind, whispering wickedly. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. It was telling me to watch, watch and learn, but gritted sand layered the skin of my closed eyes.

Clawing at it, screaming, I shouted, "Danny! Are you still there?"

A moment's pause, before, "Danny's with me." Soft fur bristled over my neck, wrapping over my armpit to circle around my spine. "He's on my list, Nora. Top priority. You know what that means..."

The sand gave way. My eyes opened to hazily glare at my bloodied fingers, the pads of my thumbs encrusted with dry, yellow sand beaded into the split skin. It rolled until it bumped into bone and I _felt_ it peel away at the seven layers of skin. Nerve-endings on fire, I stumbled to my feet.

A gasp hit my ears. Had I just gasped?

Dabria was coiled around Danny like a snake. Her eyes glowed like orange fireworks, glittering with every short rise of her shoulders and drop of exhalation. Fox ears poked out from her matted blonde hair and her tail was wound tight around Danny's torso. His shirt was gone, leaving him bare-chested. The gleaming tan skin looked taut, veins thrown to the surface, a tracery of intricate blue.

"Nora?" He whispered. "Save me."

Her carroty face was grinning, I clenched my fists. Dabria tutted. "Don't do anything rash, now, Nora. Wouldn't want Danny-boy to die, would we?"

"You bitch—" I lunged for her.

The blackened stubs she held at Danny's naval sank in. Blood bubbled up around her fingers, coating them red. Danny's carnal mouth opened for a scream. Dabria's tail shot up. The white tip was stuffed into his opened mouth, all sound drained.

Colours fizzed together. Dabria's red fur became Danny's red blood. The two of them denoted into one blurred form.

Dumpsters knocked over around me, spewing black sacks of garbage leaking a sticky red substance. It seeped into my hair, searingly hot. A key, glinting golden, fell into my open palm. _There's a spare key out back behind the Dumpsters._

The animal clinic's front doors slammed shut. A lock turned. Fingers sweaty, I turned the key over in my hands to examine it. A dent was in the centre. Three small lines striping up to the tip of the key. I got my knees up to my chest and rolled over. Pushing myself up with my elbows and knees, I bolted for the animal clinic behind me.

I fumbled with the key in the lock. It bit into my fingers as I tried to turn it. Mustering up all my strength, I threw my body weight against the door hoping to smash the glass. Nothing. I wrapped my fingers around the key and palmed it to the left. A click gave but the door didn't budge.

The key clattered to the floor.

A throat cleared behind me. I screwed my eyes shut. When I opened them my body had disobeyed me and turned of its own accord.

Peter, body covered in burn marks, held his claw-tipped hand at Isaac's throat. Isaac's fingers were hooked around Peter's one hand. Blood sprang from under Isaac's fingernails, spraying the floor in front of me with pitter-patters of blood.

A tear slipped down Peter's eye, dripping down his neck to fall above his heart. "_Say you're sorry._" He rasped, throat constricting and burns sizzling. "_For decimating my family. For leaving me burned and broken for six years._" Isaac let loose a string of profanities, kicking back against Peter's shins. Although naked, nothing Isaac did to release himself fazed Peter.

His fiery eyes were trained on mine.

Peter raised on knee. Isaac slouched against it. His curly hair flattened against his head with needles of rain dropping down. It darkened to an obscene black. Isaac turned his head. Peter drooped low to plant a kiss against his lips.

"Lover." Patch said, taking Isaac's place. Dusky skin spread out until black seeped through all his clothes. "I've missed you." Patch raised his arms to throw around Peter's neck. Their next kiss was heavy, lips locked together and moving to let tongues snake in.

Peter pushed Patch back, eyeing me. "Let's kill her together."

Patch nodded. "But first." He threw a hand down, skittering on the marks of his belly until he palmed Peter's bare crotch. Peter hummed, canines breaking past his lips to his chin. He hugged Patch to him, cradling him in his arms to smother him in his chest. "_Incendia_."

A brilliant flame engulfed the two of them.

I screamed, dropping to pick the key up and slot it into place. Bones popped, snapped and crunched in the howling, roaring fire that blistered them both. Hair sizzled first, zipping to non-existence.

The key dropped again. Growling in frustration, I smashed it against the lock and twisted the knob until it came apart in my hands. Two bullets zoomed by, flitting one of my curls, to crack into the glass of the animal clinic.

"Before I put you down." He said, lowering his two-hand stance of the gun.

I burst into the clinic. Glass showered around me, littered in my hair and scraping against my skin. Trees loomed high overhead, ringing the patch of grass I had landed on. Vee screamed. I shot up to my feet and pushed my way through the crowds of branches and sharp thorns and poison flowers until...

Gerard swung the sword.

Vee's body split in two.

I screamed.

The blood squirted everywhere.

* * *

I opened my eyes.

Rays of daylight blazed through my bedroom window. I sat up, reaching for Patch's silver chain. A hot flash of adrenaline warmed my skin. The coolness of the silver on my fingertips was remedial. To a nightmare, anyway. Even after Peter's death my worries were the same. Dabria reaching Danny. Innocent people like Isaac being harmed. My best friend, a werewolf, being killed.

The variables were all the same. I had Derek pressing me to be his Alpha female. Something I wasn't so much opposed to as frightened of what it would bring on. I got to keep my humanity, I didn't need the Bite, and I could help people who chose to be werewolves if they wanted to. But I'd have a responsibility to them, a connection to Derek bone-deep and my humanity might not be as secure as I had initially thought.

Additionally, playing the Argents to this extent meant being one of them. And with Gerard declaring all werewolves just bodies waiting to be cut in half it left me in the middle of a war between hunters and wolves.

Little things like Derek's file being missing were menial things I had to concentrate on to keep sane. Just like Kate said. Everything was a joke to her because there were werewolves running around in the world. That philosophy wasn't as bad second-time, thinking about it.

* * *

Ms. Morrell's office was the last door down the corridor. It meant being out in the open. If I was going to get Derek's file in and out of there I had to bring a bigger backpack. I hadn't.

"It won't fit in here." I told Vee, who had given me a ride this morning to school, as per usual. Until I got enough money from a job to buy a car, she was my official chauffeur. "The files are pretty big documents, I'll need a bigger backpack."

"Just cram it in there." Vee said, flailing wild gestures. "Who cares if it gets a little crushed, the thing's old right?"

"Derek's not as old as you think." I countered.

Vee raised her hands. "I'm not judging." Then, with a culprit's smile she added, "What is it? Like two, three, four years? Maybe even six?"

I wasn't about to tell Vee how old Derek was, simply because I didn't know how old Derek was. The fire was six years ago and he was a teenager then. He was probably in his early to mid-twenties. I really hoped it was early twenties. Dating someone of under age when you're legal is actually a crime. Not that Derek and I were dating. Not until I told him if I wanted to be his Alpha.

Vee rolled her eyes. "So how do you want to do this?"

"I need a distraction to get her out of her office." I said.

"We already know I'm great at distractions," Vee offered helpfully. "So I'll do it."

"I need five to ten minutes, tops."

"Got-cha." Vee said. "Now go hide around the corner. Wait for my signal to come out." Vee started towards the door. I shuffled behind the corridor corner, huddling close to a locker.

Vee stopped two feat away from the door. Turning to look at me and give me a thumbs-up, she burst into irrational tears. "Urrgh!" She sobbed, loudly. Loud enough to earn a few students looking over and smiling sympathetically. A few even pointed in hushed whispers. "Why God, why?" She raged. Fat tears dropped from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Mascara trailed after. She should have worn water-proof make-up if she was going to break-down.

When Ms. Morrell didn't walk out of her office, Vee kicked the door and yelled, "It hurts, so bad!"

Ms. Morrell opened the door to catch Vee from falling. She was leaning up against the door. When it opened unexpectedly, her weight tipped. "Are you okay?" Ms. Morrell asked.

"No!" Vee hollered.

"Why don't you step into my office for a minute." Ms. Morrell suggested. Waving a hand to the students who had crowded around her, Ms. Morrell steered Vee around with an arm over her shoulder.

"N-No!" Vee screamed, less hysterically. "I mean," She added, lamely, "I-I don't want my parents—thinking—I need—therapy!" She hiccuped. "Will you come to the lady's room with me?" Ms. Morrell looked behind her shoulder. "Please!" Vee shrieked. "My boyfriend broke up with me, and, and, and..." Racking her brain, she added, "_It hurts!_"

Ms. Morrell cooed Vee and turned her to the girl's bathroom down the hall. I turned when they past me, rattling the locker beside me.

"What are you doing?" A senior girl asked. "That's my locker!" She bellowed, throwing her hands up as if to say _not again._

I glanced at it. "It's very pretty." I said, before jogging to Ms. Morrell's office. Vee was laughing behind Ms. Morrell's back, pointing and smiling at me. Attracting too much attention from other students, I might add. Sighing and shaking my head, I pushed open the ajar door.

The inside room was empty. It was the waiting room students usually sat in before Ms. Morrell called them into their daily, weekly, monthly sessions. Pretty self-explanatory. The plush green seats were all empty. There was only one print in the one furthest from the right. But nobody was inside her office.

I entered the white bricked room with caution. The posters swarming the place were all to do with psychology. More or less. Self-esteem, team work, perseverance.

The frame behind the two student's chairs had six posters. There was a straight black lamp with a white topping. That was different. She had changed it since I had last been here. I wondered, briefly, when the last time I had taken Ms. Morrell's advise was. Probably when she told me to blackmail Derek into coming with us to Harvey's house so he could be blocked out by the mountain ash. It was all part of the excruciatingly slow process, led by Ms. Morrell, of me finding out the truth and how she thought I'd handle it.

Her desk hadn't changed. It was still beside the grey filing cabinet that was pushed up against the corner of the two walls meeting. That's where I started. The last time I had seen Derek's file, Ms. Morrell pulled it out of the top of her desk. The first drawer was empty. So I checked the next one. Nothing.

I turned from her desk to look at the clock placed high up on the wall. A white safe was built into the wall, beside the rainbow self-esteem poster. I couldn't look in there because I couldn't get in. If I tried, she'd know I had been in her office.

Ignoring the safe, I went to work on the eight drawers of the grey cabinet. Her psychology master's degree hung up on the wall next to it. Wow. Ms. Morrell was a top-tier college girl. When I reached the last one, I kicked it shut. None of them had Derek's file. Grunting in frustration I took a last-minute assessment of the room. I had checked both drawers of her desk. They were both empty. I checked the filing cabinet. The file wasn't in there. The safe was the only place left to look and I didn't know how to open it.

I couldn't just ask Ms. Morrell about it. There was something in Derek's file she didn't want me to see. If I explained my predicament with Marcie, she wouldn't trust me to deliver the file back.

If I was trying to hide a file, I wouldn't hide it. People always look for thing you try to hide. What best way to make sure nobody sees something than to not conceal it? It was risky but if she didn't want me finding it, Ms. Morrell probably didn't hide the file. She probably had it somewhere blatantly obvious.

On top of the grey cabinet file was a manilla folder with a few papers and a potted pink plant. I craned my neck to see it. The name written over the front of the manilla folder. DEREK HALE.

Because she didn't hide it meant that if it was missing she'd know about it. That made it trickier for me to take it. It would need a replacement. Another manilla folder between those documents.

Tugging open my backpack, slipping the folder inside, and zipping it back up I jogged to the door. I was going to put back Derek's folder but I needed more time to bring back a replacement. I texted Vee to stall her for a little while longer. Leaning the door ajar, but then realizing I was coming back and it didn't matter, I closed it instead. Power-walking to the front office, I replayed my excuse over in my head.

I would ask for the nurse—simple but effective. They would just ask what was wrong and then send me on my merry way. That was the problem with this school. It was too trusting. The nurse was across the hall from the filing room. Marcie wouldn't be there at her new job either. This wasn't one of her free-periods.

After telling the front office receptionist I needed to see the nurse, I walked down the hallway until the file room came into view. I shut the door behind me and focused on finding H. That was easy. Finding Hale was a little bit harder. Deceived by Hail, I tried again. This time, when I successfully found Hale there was one more file in the mix. Laura, Peter, Raven and Gemma were still there. But Frederick was new. He hadn't been there the last time I checked to find Derek's folder. I crammed Derek between Laura and Peter, slipping Frederick back inside my backpack.

I ran outside, throwing a "I'm going to be sick!" behind my shoulder to sell to the front office receptionist that I was sick. And it excused my running. The front office and the guidance counsellor's office weren't that far apart, luckily. I got there in less than a minute. Opening the door, I poked my head in. No noise came.

Leaving the door, I opened Ms. Morrell's office and made short work of slotting Frederick's file where Derek's once was. Closing her office door behind me, I left the outer door ajar and texted Vee that the deed was done.

* * *

The next day was a Friday, meaning the week-end was rolling up soon. I was grateful for it. Some much-needed R&R would be heading my way in the form of two days.

Isaac Lahey's father was killed yesterday night. They said they found him in his car, torn up. Claw marks. That made up my mind. I was ready to sell my soul. It was weird, but I needed something to push me over the edge. People needed me, and I had selfishly ignored them. Derek needed me to help lead his pack, to be his female Alpha. Isaac, and all the other Betas who Derek gave the Bite to, would need me to help them, guide them as their human female Alpha. Derek needed an advisor.

Deep down I always knew I would say yes. I just needed a good enough excuse. It wasn't the responsibilities I was worried about. It was the repercussions of being Derek's. Being an Alpha meant having power, authority. People could claim that status by killing you. That was what happened with Laura and Peter, and then Peter and Derek.

In a way being Derek's meant accepting _him _as my Alpha. Even though I wasn't a wolf.

I wore a black top and skirt with the leather jacket to school.

Vee, instantly, flashed golden eyes at me when I seated myself into her car. "What the hell, babe? Why are you wearing Derek's leather jacket?"

"I'm going to be his female Alpha."

Her eyes stretched open. "_What_?"

"A couple of nights ago, Derek offered it to me. A chance to be in his pack. Actually, I shouldn't say that. I should say... a chance to lead his pack with him. As his second-in-command. The human female Alpha. It doesn't mean what you think it means—"

"So are you like his mate, then?" Vee asked.

"Mate? I don't think that's—"

"Then what? If you smell like him, what are you?"

"His female human Alpha." I said. "I'm going to help him lead his pack. As a human. Look, Vee, Isaac's father was killed yesterday night. I'm sure you heard. Claw marks were found on the body. Do you know what that means?"

Vee looked away when she said, "Isaac killed him."

"And Derek didn't stop him. This is my chance to help. Derek's offering the Bite to those who want it. Nobody will be forced into this life." I said. "Not like you."

She turned, and said, in an offended tone, "They are like me! Werewolves. Betas."

"They'll have a choice!" I argued.

"There's never a choice. Nora, don't you see?" Vee said. "There's never a choice." She repeated. "There's a power-hungry Alpha and people he Bites who are forced into being his Betas. If you're there, as a human, you could get hurt."

"I'm an Alpha with him." I said, in over my head. "If I'm there, leading him, advising him, nobody will die. I'll make sure of it."

Vee scoffed. "So what's your job description? Make sure nobody gets killed? Or giving the real Alpha a happy when he's bored?" I've never wanted to slap her more.

"It's not because I'm in love with Derek!"

"_You're in love with Derek?_"

"No. No." I stuttered. "That's not what I meant. I'm not." I said unconvincingly. Her eyebrows peaked. "I'm not." I said, more firmly. "Being the human female Alpha means Derek's Betas will have to listen to me. Because they're my Betas, too."

"No it doesn't. You're not the one they feel loyalty too, Derek is. Because he gave them the Bite. Not you."

"I'll be there." I said, not back down, raising my chin.

"You weren't when Isaac was Bitten." Vee muttered, under her breathe.

"I'll help them like I helped you through the change and every Shift. If Derek gets out of line, I'll be there to make sure he doesn't force his Betas into doing anything they don't want to." I paused. "Vee, I know this is what I'm meant to do."

"Do you want me to feel happy for you?"

"Yes!"

"Why?" She challenged.

"Because I can finally help. I can finally help werewolves."

"Is this about me?"

"Not everything is, Vee."

"No. I know that. Is this about you not being able to help me. Not being able to give me the Cure?" Vee said.

"I didn't think about that until you just said it. Maybe. Maybe it is. Maybe this way, the werewolves who don't want a cure will get to enjoy being who they are and I'll be a part of that. I'll help them and make sure, as the human female Alpha—"

"Stop saying that!" Vee hit the steering wheel. "You can't be an Alpha unless you're a werewolf!"

"I'm Derek's."

Vee looked at me. Oddly. "You're Derek's? What does that even mean? Does he own you now? Am I not aloud to be around you?"

"Of course not." I said. "Wolves are the most social animals. They hunt in packs for a number of reasons."

"So?"

"So a pack doesn't just mean protection and power. It also means family and friendship." I said. "Being Derek's, letting him scent me by wearing his jacket, is my way of saying yes to him. I'm going to be his female Alpha, as a human. I won't receive the Bite because I don't want it."

"Did he brainwash you, or something?" Vee asked wryly. "Nora, he only wants power!"

"So why me?" I demanded. "If he wants power why wouldn't he ask you to be the female Alpha of his pack? If you really believe he just wants power, why would he choose a human female to be the Alpha of his pack?"

"Because he's obsessed with you." Vee objected. "And somehow he got you to believe all these crazy things."

"Vee, I'm not asking for your permission on this." I waited for her to look at me. "I'm doing this. And there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

"Oh yes there is." Vee said, cranking the engine to pull away from the curb. "I'm going to tell your mom."

"You think that'll stop me from agreeing to be Derek's female Alpha?" I gave a unamused laugh. "Vee if you tell my mom you have to tell her you're a werewolf too. And Patch is a werefox and Scott is a—"

"I'm not telling her about the supernatural." Vee said, speeding down the highway. "I'm telling her Derek proposed and you said yes to run away together and get hitched in Las Vegas or something." Vee drank in my expression. "She'll hit the roof."

"Vee, don't you dare!"

"Too late." Vee said. "We're heading over to her auctioning company right now."

"If you tell my mom that I'll tell her about you." I warned. "I'll make sure your parents find out too. It'll be easy. I just need to load my gun with wolfsbane-laced bullets and give you one between the eyes. Don't think I won't." I told her. "Kate taught me how."

Vee looked at me. "In more ways than one." She said, stingingly. The evident hurt in her voice was more than I could bare. One choice and I had already disappointed one person. Why didn't she understand that this was for the best? This way, everyone got what they wanted. Derek got me and I got to protect people from his Betas. That fact I would become an Alpha, as a human, and I got Derek in return were bonuses.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "Vee?"

"I don't believe you would really do that to me." She said.

"And I don't believe you would tell my mom I was getting hitched with Derek Hale." I said.

We stared at each other, breathlessly, a while.

I sighed. "This is just something I have to do, Vee." I said, slowly. "Please understand." I wanted to say. But I didn't have to. The silver cord tying us together rang.

"I understand." Words I thought Vee would never say.

* * *

Scott rushed up to me. "Why do you smell like Derek?" It was a little baronial but I expected it. The back of my—Derek's—leather jacket hit a locker. Scott's dark eyebrows arched. "Nora? Tell me why you smell like him!"

Stiles laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Easy, Scott."

I looked to Vee. She flipped up her palms, shrugged and said, "I don't get it, either." before leaving down the stream of bodies to class.

"A few nights ago," I recounted, "Derek told me he wanted me to be part of his pack."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up.

"Not part of it. Not really." I corrected. "He wanted me to be his second-in-command. His female Alpha. I don't want the Bite, and at first I said no but I've thought it through. I'm going to be Derek's human female Alpha."

"What does that even mean?" Stiles asked.

Scott's eyebrows remained lost in his hairline.

"Hello?" Stiles asked. "Nora? What does that mean?"

"It means that Derek's the Alpha male. I'll be the Alpha female. Only I don't want the Bite. So I'll remain human, as the second-in-command."

"And you smell like him because..." Scott said.

"It my way of saying yes to his offer." I said formally. "I'll be helping lead Derek's pack."

"If you're his Alpha female doesn't that mean you two are... mates?" Stiles wiggled his fingers together to form a couple and made kissing noises with puckered lips.

I grit my teeth. "Not necessarily."

"But in this case?"

"I don't think that's any of your business." I snapped. Stiles raised his hands innocently.

"Scott?" Allison asked, finally speaking to break the silence. "Are you okay?" She wasn't supposed to be seen with him. They were broken up. I was compromising their act. To wrap things up quicker, I pressed against Scott's chest plate.

"Yeah." He said, releasing me and apologizing. "I get it." He nodded. "Just make sure nobody gets hurt."

"That's why I'm agreeing." I said. "Under my watch, no one will."

"What about when you're not around?" Stiles asked. "Being the female Alpha means having power over the Betas. If Derek does something drastic and you two disagree will you fight for control over the pack?"

"That's not how it works." I said. "I'm like an advisor to Derek. I can command the pack like he does, without the glowing red eyes, but I can't command him and vice-versa. To make a pack decision we don't have to agree. But we can't overrule each other. That's not a thing." How I knew was a mystery yet to be solved. The information was just spewing out of me like a broken facet. Too suddenly. Did I read his and forget about it?

"So Derek's making a pack..." Scott said. "Will you warn us when he does?"

"No." I said. "I can't. I'm the female Alpha, not your free info source. Besides, you're an Omega. A lone wolf. If you're not part of the pack I can't tell you pack-related stuff." Again, the information cough up like memorized fact. "I have no idea how I know this stuff." I said, answering Stiles' quizzical expression. "I just do."

"Does Derek know?" Allison asked.

"I only just put the jacket on. When he smells himself on me, he'll know." I explained. "I'm not sure when that'll be but whenever it is he'll tell me." I said. "I hope that doesn't mean..."

"No." Scott said, grinning goofily. "No it doesn't mean anything between us." Scott said. "We're good." He looked behind him.

Stiles gave a thumbs-up.

Allison garnished a nervous smile.

"I just wish Vee understood like you, do." I said.

"We're not happy about it." Scott said. Stiles jabbed him in the ribs. "Ow! What? I'm being honest. I'm not. But we can't stop you from doing what you want. And if this is what you want..."

He left it hanging between us.

"As your friends," Allison said, "We won't intervene."

"And we hope we can still count on you for stuff." Stiles added.

I nodded.

"Give Vee some time." Scott offered. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No." I said. "I think I'll just wait for her to cool off. We had a fight this morning about it."

"It'll be fine." Stiles said.

It was what I wanted. For the three of them to be my friends again, to be okay with my decisions. So why did I feel like they were playing me? Like this was almost too easy. I hooked my finger into Patch's silver chain and instinctively searched him out.

He had heard it all. Patch. He nodded the smallest fraction of an inch. He understood, too. He didn't like it. But he understood and he wasn't going to stop me, either.

* * *

"Guess what?" My mom asked once I had picked up the phone. She was coming home for the week-end.

"What?" I asked, tucking the phone between the junction of my neck and shoulder, whilst painting my nails a dark blue. Derek never showed up Friday. I was still waiting for him Saturday evening.

"The Parnells are coming to dinner today!" She said. After a pause, "Why aren't you excited? I thought you were happy to see Lionel again."

"Only when Dorth was coming too."

"Dorth is a busy woman, Nora." She said. "She has her own life to live."

"I know. But if they show up and you're not here I'm not making small talk. I barely remember Lionel. And I don't remember his mom, at all. I'll just hang out in my room until you cook dinner and wait for you."

"Nora."

"What is for dinner?"

"_Nora_."

"Fine." I said, cutting off the connection. After a quick shower of rubbing mouse into my hair in lieu of hairstyle, I got dressed in plain clean clothes. My cardigan was halfway buttoned up when there was a loud rap at the door.

"Mom!" She wasn't home yet, since there was no answer. I bound down the stairs to open the door. A tall, well-built guy wearing a snug gym shirt stepped onto the doormat and past me into the house. The silver hoop running through his right ear flashed, catching light. He went straight for the fridge, clipping his Hulk Hogan sunglasses on the neckline of his shirt.

"You must be Nora." He said, in way of greeting. He wore a pink Hawaiian print ball cap that reminded me of Patch's trademark blue one. Only his looked fresh out of an inside joke thrift shop. He turned, Levi's riding hazardously low on his hips. One rash move and they'd drop. "Got any beer?" Lionel asked.

"Um. _No._" I said. "Where's your mom?"

"With yours outside." Lionel answered. "She's holding our dinner." Despite his boyish charm, it sounded a little presumptuous the way he said "our". Had Mom invited them over for more than one dinner? Because that was so not happening. One meet cute was enough.

Before I had time to voice my thoughts, Mom stepped through the threshold with two brown grocery bags in her hands. A round woman with a bad pixie-style haircut and heavy pink make-up followed her in.

"Nora, Lynn Parnell, Lynn, Nora." Mom said.

"Nora!" The woman—Ms. Parnell—clapped and strode over to me. "Oh, Blythe, won't you look at her." She nudged Lionel. "Ain't she a looker!"

"If looks could kill." He said, looking at my face. "We'd be dead."

I removed myself from the uncomfortable situation to help my mom unpack the groceries. Unfortunately, Ms. Parnell was not done 'talking me up' to her son. "She looks just like her mother. And wasn't Blythe a sight to behold in the day." Mom looked up. "Not that you still aren't. But, ooh, those legs. Longer than the Vegas strip."

_Was she calling me a hooker? What the hell was the Vegas strip?_

"We're having lasagne, garlic bread and Jell-O salad." Mom said, smiling. "You eat meat, don't you Lionel?"

He nodded, scratching his chest to make his bicep flex.

"Nora made the salad." Mom said. Before I could interject, she said, "She brought the Jell-O boxes. I think everything is ready. Why don't we eat?"

After Mom had blessed the food, making us all hold hands, we started.

Ms. Parnell cut the lasagne and slid a piece onto Lionel's plate. "So how long have you lived in Beacon Hills, Blythe?" She asked. Lionel looked up from his plate, knife and fork already in hand.

"Ever since Harrison and I got married." Mom said. "We moved from Maine to California and found this farmhouse, wonderfully affordable too. We were going to remodel and fix everything. But then he... he died and we never got the chance to."

Lionel sighed, having known this would happen. Under the table, he did something that made Ms. Parnell jump. "Nora," He piped up, "I know it was six years ago, but I know that whoever murdered your dad will be caught." He winked. "My dad's a cop. I know they'll find him."

"Your dad's a cop?"

"My ex-husband." Ms. Parnell said. "May he rot in hell."

"Mom!" Lionel said.

"Excuse _me_." She dragged out the word. Clearing her throat, she said, "Tell us, Nora. What's Beacon Hills High like?"

I meant to thank Lionel for his support, but the words broke to pieces in my throat. My dad was not something I wanted to particularly think about, so I mentally thanked Ms. Parnell for changing the subject. "BHHS is... fine. For lack of a better word. Great educational system."

"But I read online that under Principal Thomas's guide that there was an alarming drop in academic achievement and test scores for the past few semesters." Ms. Parnell said, matter-of-fact. "How are your grades, Nora?"

With a smile, Mom said, "Straight As, actually."

"How nice." Ms. Parnell said, excruciatingly bittersweet. "Lionel himself hasn't had much luck in the grades department. He's going into his senior year, hoping to improve before signing up for colleges. How's the sports in BHHS? Do they have a wrestling team? In his old school, Lionel loved to wrestle."

"I'm not sure BHHS actually as a wrestling team." I said, which made Ms. Parnell spit out her wine. "But they have a very successful lacrosse team. Won State three years in a row under the leadership of Jackson Whittemore."

"A friend of Nora's." Mom chirped in, raising her brows and sipping some of her wine.

Giving her a pointed look, I continued, "So, Lionel, if you're a sports guy you should ask him about the lacrosse team. See if you can sign up a little later or maybe wait until next year." He raised an indifferent shoulder. "If your grades aren't that good, maybe extra-curricular activities like lacrosse could increase your chances—"

"Okay, I'll think about it." Lionel said, exacerbated.

"—of getting into a high-tier college." I finished.

Lionel snorted. "High-tier? No offence, but I'm not bookworm smart like you."

"That's why I'm saying you could talk to Jackson. I could set up a meeting with him, if you'd like me to." I said conversationally.

"I've got other stuff I'd like to do." Lionel said, through a mouthful of lasagne. "Can you pass the Jell-O?"

Mom handed Ms. Parnell the salad bowl.

"What exactly have you got in mind for this year, Lionel?" Ms. Parnell asked, placing the bowl in front of his plate so hard my water rippled.

"Just stuff." He said, pinching some onto his place with the salad pincers.

"I certainly hope not stuff like you used to do with your father." Ms. Parnell said. "Honestly, what man takes his eleven-year-old son hunting every month?"

I struggled to keep my mouth shut. Mom did the investigative work for me.

"Hunting?" She asked politely.

"Every month." Ms. Parnell repeated, raising her glass to Lionel.

"What did you hunt?"

Lionel never spoke. Every time he opened his mouth, Ms. Parnell cut him off. "Nothing! They never came back with game. Only dirtied clothes. I wanted to move for years but Lionel's dad always said it was the perfect spot for hunting. All I ever heard were wolves howling."

"Enough." Lionel said.

"How dangerous is that?" She clamped her wine glass down, sloshing it to stain the white cloth purple. "It looked like they were always hunting the same pack of wolves. Finding cellars and basements with claw marks on the walls, chains and bolts and shackles. It looked like something out of a horror movie!"

"I said that's enough." Lionel rose to tower over his mother. Mom got up too, to place a hand on Lionel's shoulder.

"Please calm down." She said.

"Shut up Blythe!" Lionel snapped. He turned back to his mother. "All you ever do is bitch about dad!" He barked. Ms. Parnell jumped at his choice of wording. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. I'm sure he's not doing the same. Dad taught me how to hunt. What kind of quality mother-son time did we ever spend together?"

Ms. Parnell opened her mouth.

"Spoiler alert: It's none." Lionel flashed his eyes at mine. They weren't blue before... were they? "I'm outta here." He stormed to the front door, pulling it shut behind him.

Ms. Parnell wiped her mouth on a napkin. It came away the same ugly shade of pink as her sticky lipstick. "That's the bad part about divorce. Lionel never used to have a temper before the divorce. His father always used to keep him in line."

"Where is Lionel's father living nowadays?" Mom asked.

"At our old house." Ms. Parnell answered. "We moved. He stayed." Desperate to change the subject, she asked, "So, Nora. Got any boys in line for those long legs?"

"Um, no." I said.

"Sort of." Mom said.

Ms. Parnell wrinkled her brow. "Isn't that confusing? Well, don't keep me in suspense. Which is it? Yes or no?"

"She went out with Stiles a few times."

"Once." I corrected.

"But Matt Daehler took her to the Winter Formal."

"As friends." I added. "So to sum up, nope. No boyfriend."

"Stiles?" Ms. Parnell asked, apparently stuck on the name. "What an unusual name."

"His last name is Stilinski. Stiles is just what he likes to be called." Mom explained. "It's a nickname. What's his real name again, Nora? Gemin or Gerlim?"

"I don't know." I lied.

"Well Lionel's available." Ms. Parnell offered. "If you can get over his temper and the bad fashion."

"He does have a boyish charm." I said, to keep her off my back.

"Yes, yes he does." Mom agreed. "More garlic bread, Lynn?"

* * *

Lionel never came back. Ms. Parnell just assumed he went back to the apartment, so she left after dinner to go find him. I was still caught in an internal tug of war between whether I thought Scott was a werewolf or hunted them. It could be either one. Hunting could be an excuse as to why they left because I was sure Lionel's eyes were like Derek's blue ones, only not glowing. Maybe blue eyes meant you were a Born werewolf instead of a Bitten's golden ones.

Lost in thought, I trotted up the stairs into my room, leaving Mom to do the dishes. It was her day, tomorrow was mine.

Derek was in my room.

"Have you ever heard of a front door?" I asked.

"Your mom was home." He explained. "And you had company."

"Company?" I repeated. "How long have you been here? Since the Parnells got here?"

"No. I came here after the boy left."

"That long?"

Shying away, Derek looked down at the top button of my cardigan. "I wanted to see you. It smells the same way it did before. That different scent. Was someone up here tonight?"

I shook my head. "I waited for you yesterday." I said. "You never came. The leather jacket's in the wardrobe if you want it back."

He grinned. "Keep it. I'm glad you wore it."

"Don't make me regret it." I mocked, arms lacing around his neck. The kiss was soft. His lips were firm, demanding, hungry. "Do you want to—" I said, in between kisses, "move to the—bed?"

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, angular face pale. Stubble burn licked at my lips. "Tonight?"

"You're right." I said, answering with a teasingly light kiss. Derek bent to steal another, but I turned my cheek. "It is late. Look at the time." I tapped his shoulder. "You should go." But I couldn't unlace his arms from around me. "Derek?"

In a whirl of airborne, Derek was pressing me up against the wall. One hand tangled in my hair, the other slipping the buttons of my cardigan off. It dropped to the floor in a silky gray puddle. I used my toes to kick it away.

Derek dropped his shoulder for his jacket to fall unevenly to the ground beside it.

"What is it with you and walls?"

* * *

Vee was leaning against the Neon. After waiting so long, her muscles were beginning to cramp up. She had sent the text so long ago, why was he taking this much time to come to the Preserve?

If he really did kill his father, and Derek did nothing, Vee would. She'd do something. Something reckless that Nora would probably disprove of. Actually, Nora was doing the reckless thing taking up Derek's offer. Why shouldn't Vee, too?

He broke through the clearing, twigs breaking under his inexperienced feet and leaves crackling. He looked just like he did at the Winter Formal. The bruise on his left eye had faded. Vee marched up to him, desperately clinging her eyes to his to stop herself from devouring those lips.

She shoved at his shoulders. The force behind the blow was enough to knock a human to their feet. Isaac merely stumbled. "Did you really kill your own father?" Vee demanded, heart rate spiking.

"What?" Isaac asked, innocently hooking his light-coloured brows together. "Of course not."

"Don't play dumb, Isaac." Vee sneered. "I can smell you. The Bite. Derek gave it to you. Didn't he?" She needed him to say it, to confirm what she already knew to engorge the fire in her stomach already burning bright.

"Yes." Isaac said, looking down submissively. Vee grabbed his cleft chin to tip up. Damn. Her eyes skimmed over his spit-slicked lips. The wet shine dragged her eyes to it. Breaking through his gorgeous spell, she locked onto his eyes. They weren't nearly as pretty as his lips, but just as breath-taking and just as sultry.

"So did you kill him?" Vee repeated for what felt like the millionth time. "Your father?"

"No." Isaac said. Vee listened hard for any telltale blips in his heart rate. It was wildly increasing, making it harder for her to tell. Groaning, she let go of his face and turned away. He was a good liar, Vee would give him that.

"Then who, Isaac?" Vee exploded. "Claw marks! They found claw marks on your dad's body. Who else would kill him?" Isaac wasn't looking at her anymore. He was staring at his scruff shoes, caked by some debris from the Preserve. Drawing small circles in the ground with the tip, Isaac finally tipped his head up. "Derek?" She asked.

"No." Isaac said, forcibly.

"He's your Alpha isn't he?" Vee asked. "He wouldn't like somebody abusing his Beta. Did Derek kill your father?"

"No." Isaac said again, with more confidence. His steadier heart rate didn't slow or speed. "I swear. The thing that killed him was..." Isaac looked away again, at a branch in the distance that clawed out of some fog. It was still bright enough to see the sun dip into the sky, red swords skating outwards into the clouds. "It wasn't a werewolf."

Vee said the first thing that popped into her mind. "Was it a werefox?" She knew Patch would never kill someone as boringly average as Mr. Lahey. Patch had killed before, he had told her so on their hunt for Lydia, but it was always for a purpose. Revenge, paid mercenary work. Never boredom. Dabria, on the other hand...

"What?" Isaac shook his head, shadows imprinting across the skin stretched perfectly around his angular cheekbones. "What's that?"

"Did a human do it?" Vee asked, stepping closer to him. "With some kind of special weapon, maybe? I know you saw it. I know you were there. Your bike was found there, the tracks made by it anyway. Your dad was out looking for you, wasn't he?"

"If he didn't want me to run he shouldn't have thrown the glass." Isaac said, offensively.

Vee studied him a moment. "Maybe you should have run earlier." She replied, leaving him to decipher and decide what she meant by that. Either that he should have left home to avoid his father's beatings or that he should have left to get his father killed earlier.

Isaac's cheeks grew hot from Vee's stare. "You told me that if we were going to be together, I should be less shy. Taking the Bite from Derek was the first step." Isaac said, oddly comfortably and secure.

"Sorry Isaac." Vee said. "I found someone else." Rixon and her weren't exactly exclusive yet, not that they had said so, but she was sure Rixon wasn't seeing another girl. She shouldn't either. Shouldn't and couldn't _were_ two different things, after all.

Isaac dipped his head low. "It's okay." He said. "I always knew you were too good for me, anyway."

"Don't feel sorry for yourself," Vee told him. "You're pretty hot."

Isaac grinned that gorgeous, toe-curling, cloud-parting, teeth-showing and cheek-lifting grin that made Vee want to jump on him. "So are you."

The space between them reduced, greatly.

His toes were touching her's.

Vee sprang on him, fingernails itching to shed claws. She was clenching her jaw so hard to keep the canines in she tasted copper. Isaac didn't seem to mind. His arms circled her waist, meeting at the small of her back. One hand ripped up to the latch of her bra, the other ripped down to dance above her buttocks.

Their lips crashed together. He tasted like everything she knew he would. Warmth and comfort, lips soft and gentle but tongue hard and insistent to pry apart her lips and gain entry to the wet cavern inside. Vee thought he tasted like walking through the woods after a shower of rain made everything damp.

He groaned when her hands explored the dips and valleys through his shirt. She gave him signals, plucking at it, prying open a button, but he didn't seem to get it. So she let the delightful burn hum through the tips of her fingers, electrifying claws.

She simply poked a claw inside the opening of his shirt, between the button, to flick out. No harm done to the shirt, but it was slowly opening. Isaac broke the kiss, glaring at her claws. She smiled angelically and batted her eyelashes. His magnetic lips dipped to mouth at her neck, and she was the perfect height for that. As he mouthed, she flicked open his buttons until the shirt spread apart.

Vee curled her fingers into a fist, nails abjuring in danger of cutting open her palm. Isaac stared in awe at the control she had. It wasn't hard, she told him with her eyes, if he stayed with her she could teach him.

Isaac kissed her again, eagerly coltish. Vee dropped her hand from his shoulder to map out the planes of his chest. Her hand landed on his left squared breast, where his heart was racing.

"Oh, no." Vee said. The full moon caused murderous as well as sexual tendencies and made a werewolf take more risks. Isaac wasn't kissing her because he wanted to. He might have wanted to but it was all under the soon-to-come moon's effect.

Isaac's eyes had been closed. But when he opened them, gold winked at her. "What?" He asked, genuinely concerned. "Is something wrong? Did I do something to—" The question hung there, silently unfinished and silently unanswered. Vee smelt him before he even showed up. It was easy. She had his scent memorized.

It was leather, ash and something like sandalwood mixed with a touch of some dark spice. Derek.

"What do you think you're doing?" Derek gruffed, an indenture below growling. His hands were in his pockets, his black hair tousled and clothes slightly wrinkled. Worst offence of all, he smelled like Nora.

"Nothing." Vee said.

"Nothing." Isaac said.

"Good." Derek did growl, then. Reaching for Isaac's wrist. "You can't be with her, right now. She's bad for you. She has a lost of control, but you don't." With each accusation, Derek thrust a thick finger at Vee.

"She has a name." Vee interjected.

"Vee." Derek said her name like a diss, like a warning.

"We were just—" Isaac began, but couldn't really finish the sentence with something innocent. Not with his shirt open the way it was, the skin showing pale and creamy like that. Skin Vee wanted to lap away at until the chemicals on her tongue were left imprinted all over Isaac.

"You can talk, smelling like Nora the way you do." Vee said, throwing a hand up and down Derek's form.

"That's different. I was Born," He raised Isaac's wrist, still in Derek's grasp, "he was Bitten. Not long ago, I might add. If his heart rate rises—"

"Nothing will happen." Vee countered. "He hasn't had his first full moon yet. His body is still going through the change. He hasn't Shifted yet."

Derek made a snorting sound, absorbing what Vee said. He nodded, an impressed look (_as impressed as Derek Hale can look from something Vee Sky said_, she thought) on his face. "Go home, Isaac." He said.

Isaac's face undulated. He buttoned up his shirt, tossing desperate looks behind his shoulder at Vee. She tried to convey the message that she'd be fine through her eyes, but was too enchanted by his to do so. Instead, Vee watched him leave with a stone in her throat.

She felt Isaac go bone-deep, someone she could connect with on a wolf-like level. With Rixon, it went skin-deep. No matter how hot he was, she couldn't smell him and taste him and hear his heart race and watch him unravel under her fingertips without thinking about losing control and hurting him. At least with Isaac, she knew that if that happened he could take it as a wolf himself.

"Peter's dead." Derek said.

"No need to remind me." Vee shot back. "You stole my only chance at a cure when you slashed his burnt throat."

"Sealing me as the new Alpha." Derek continued, unfazed by her words. "I'm making a pack. Isaac's my first Beta. Nora's my female Alpha." He smiled to himself. Vee knew, just then, she wasn't a conquest to him. Derek really was obsessed with her, in a way that only she couldn't understand because she didn't see their connection and how unhealthily deep it truly went. She could even smell how strong his feelings were for her by her single name rolling off his tongue.

"But two Alphas and one Beta isn't enough." Derek said. "I'm trying to get Scott in my pack, too. Since you were also Bitten by Peter, and currently are packless, I was thinking maybe you could join."

Vee held back a laugh. "Join your pack? No thanks. Not to be rude or anything but I'd rather be by myself. A lone wolf."

"An Omega." Derek said.

"Isn't that the lowest ranking of a pack?" Vee asked.

"It can be." Derek answered. "But it's also the term for a lone wolf. Being an Omega is dangerous. It's a coin toss. You can either be alone and be weaker than everyone else. Or be alone and be stronger than everyone else. You're weaker because you have no one to watch out for you. You're stronger because you have only yourself to look after. But that's not the case with you, is it, Vee?"

"No." She said. "Because, unlike you, I don't have to Bite anyone to gain their trust, or their friendship. I may be an Omega, but I have Nora, in more ways than you'll ever brainwash her to believe she's your Alpha."

Vee got cocky. She raised her chin, unstoppable now. "And Patch, the werefox. Not to mention Scott. Stiles. Even Allison, Argent's daughter. I don't doubt that Jackson's with me, now that you've given him the Bite. And I'm not sure how well I know Lydia to call her a friend, but I'll toss her into the mix for fun." Vee flashed a grin. "That's seven. You have one. Nora's not yours. She'll never be yours. Whatever mating call that's attracted her to you is temporary. She belongs to Stiles, her first love. What she feels for you is simple chemistry: Lust. She'll be over you in a week or two."

Derek flashed his own toothy grin. "Is that so?"

"I'll let you in on a secret." She stepped towards him, gesturing clandestinely. "Just between us girls. She only agreed to be your human female Alpha to make sure you don't step out of line. You or your Betas. With the power you've given her, she can control them just like you and if you do anything unreasonable, she can take them away from you and all that power will just be..." She snapped her fingers. "...gone."

Vee felt like she had given him enough of her time. She spun on her heel, undefeated, and walked away back to her Neon to start it up and leave the Preserve. She got back home in time for dinner.

* * *

Isaac wasn't in school on Monday. He was hiding out with Derek at the abandoned train station. I didn't know for how long. Nobody but Vee knew about him. She called me yesterday and told me about her meeting up with him in the Preserve. He told her he didn't kill his father, and neither did Derek, that something which wasn't a werewolf did. Not a werefox, something unknown. Then they made-out because of the upcoming full moon and Derek stopped them. He offered Vee a place in his pack but she shot him down with a few unkind words I was yet to get a quote of.

I didn't want Scott, Stiles and Allison making the same mistake as Vee. I didn't want them to assume he killed his father, like I did. He hadn't even Shifted yet. Since I knew they didn't know about him yet, I needed to keep it that way.

The train station was too far away for me to walk to. I couldn't ask Vee for a ride and my mom's car was off-limits to me since I hit that deer a while back. I was yet to wait for that to bite me in the backside.

With no other choice left, I called Derek and asked him to meet me in the Preserve outside my house to talk. After what happened in my bedroom Saturday night I didn't need more surprises like that. The only thing that stopped us from going all the way was the lack of protection. I wasn't ready to lose my virginity. Derek knew that. I pegged his increased sexual drive on the full moon tomorrow. It probably still affected him, even if he was a Born werewolf and had years of practice. Some things you just can't change.

Derek started me by placing his lips on my neck, tasting my jaw and streaking that mouth upwards until he brushed a kiss on the top of my head. "Hey." He said.

"Hi." I answered, pushing him back a little. "That's not why I called." Derek's face clouded over.

"What's wrong?"

"Tomorrow's the full moon." I said. "You let Isaac stay with you for today but you have to do that for tomorrow too."

"The full moon doesn't affect a werewolf until it reaches its apex in the sky at night." Derek reminded me, a hint of snarkiness in his tone. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm just afraid Scott and the others will smell him."

"So let them smell him." Derek said. "They know we're building a pack."

"But what about the cops? They still haven't come to question Isaac only because they think he's staying with a long-lost relative out of town." I said. "You're welcome for that, by the way."

"They can't keep him in jail, he's a minor."

"Can't they lock him up because he's a suspect?"

"I don't think so." Derek said. "Like I said, he's a minor. Just let me worry about that stuff, okay?"

"No." I said.

"No?"

"No." I said, again. "I agreed to be this pack's female Alpha and that's what I'll be. What are we going to do about him tomorrow. Full moon."

"I was thinking about bringing him to the old Hale house." Derek said, smiling. "It's already busted so no one will think anything of it. Besides, I'm not sure the smell of rats will sit well with Isaac, he'll want to hunt them. And I think rats make my female Alpha squeamish, so..."

"They don't." I said. "For the record, heights are my phobia and why do you keep smiling."

In a rare, gentle tone, Derek said, "Because I have an Alpha female that's strong and beautiful. You have no idea how rare that is."

"You forgot smart." I said, pressing my tongue to my cheek.

"Strong, beautiful, intelligent." Derek rolled the words off his tongue. "Vulnerable." He added, pressing _his _tongue to_ my_ cheek. Growling with nails biting into my arms, Derek muzzled into the crook of my neck. My back was scratched by the rough bark of the wood. Before I let the pleasurable sensations of having Derek all over me overheat my system, I pushed him off me suddenly.

"I almost forgot." I said. "I want Vee there, too. Even though she rejected you there's a chance she might still want to join the Hale pack. What better way to seal the deal than to lure her to the Hale house and provide her a place to Shift freely."

"That's fine with me." Derek said. "The old house has shackles that are still good enough for us to use since the fire." Derek stopped, mid-thought. "Did you say Hale pack?"

"Oh, yeah." I murmured. "Shouldn't a pack be named by the clan or tribe not by the area." Especially since if Lionel really was a werewolf and back in Beacon Hills. Although he could just as easily have been from a hunting family. I was still yet to find out, the next time I saw him.

"Good." Derek said. "But how about... Hale-Grey pack. Or Grey-Hale pack."

"Either sounds..."I gulped, audibly. "Nice."

Derek teased lupine claws down my arms, pressing his body against me. The heat gyrated off him to whisper against my skin like bedsheets. Still muzzling my neck, I guided his head up to my lips for a viciously passionate kiss that exploded a certain shade of green eye coloured fireworks behind my screwed-shut eyelids.

* * *

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asked Lydia, as she, her, Vee and I lazily walked away from the school parking lot and up the steps boarded by neatly trimmed lawns and hedges. I quite liked what Allison was wearing; a dark blazer that, although unbuttoned, met at her chest, over a nice lacy white dress with black tights and laced-up ankle-high grey boots packaged with a burgundy purse.

"They called it a fugue state," Lydia said, a neatly-cut, expensive brown leather jacket folded in her arms. She wore a dark red dress with sleeves cut short just above the crease of her elbows, and heels to match. Her only piece of jewellery was a gold chain running around her neck and matching golden earrings carved with layers in the small design. Her hair twined down, wavy at the tips but thin and straight from her brushed off bangs. "Which is basically a way of saying 'We have no idea why you were running around the woods, naked, for two days'. But," She flapped her arms, "Personally, I don't care." Allison breathed out a laugh. Lydia stretched open her arms to show her slimming figure. "I lost nine pounds!" That had Allison and Vee smiling.

I was more worried for her. High school life was mean. Especially with people like Marcie Millar around, waiting to torment people like me.

Allison grabbed her elbow carpingly, "Are you ready for this?" She asked, having read my mind.

"Please." Lydia said. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer." She tossed her wavy strawberry blonde head and opened the doors to the school. Vee followed her in, rubbing Allison's back.

Allison stared into space for three seconds, only feeling the effect of Lydia's words later then and shaking it off just as quickly. "She can be really tactless sometimes." I said, holding the door open for Allison to go through.

"I think it's her self-defence mechanism." Allison offered, too kind for her own good. Vee and Lydia were based to the floor, feet locked in place. So was every student who happened to walk by when alleged nudist-night-runner, Lydia Martin, stepped inside, freshly scrubbed and not smelling of woods.

Literally. All student body stopped to stare. One guy even had a hand over his mouth. Allison hummed nervously, wiping a stray curl off her forehead. Lydia, bug-eyed, stared at a fat kid holding in a laugh beside an ugly grinning black girl, to another blonde fat kid with a pretty dark-haired girl wearing a red hat and above. All their expressions were the same, wide-eyed and shocked at the freak.

Lydia was gazing at a spot on the ground when Allison suggestively said, intimately close to her ear, "Maybe it's the nine pounds."

Lydia had a mix of emotions.

She pressed her lips inwards so her teeth ground the inside, making her look as if she were about to hum. Then she experimentally flashed a smile. Brushing a hand to her forehead, she wiped off the wavy locks, tossed her head and shoulders back and began to march forward, hair swaying behind her angrily.

Allison, Vee and I followed behind her with equally teasing smiles. To break the silence, Vee said, "Are you coming with us to watch the lacrosse practice?"

"No, this isn't my free period." She said.

"So just ditch." Vee said helpfully. "It's what I'm doing."

"Can't." Allison said. "I think I have a quiz today, preparation for the actual semester finals."

"Suit yourself." Vee said, clip-clopping away towards the filed outside. I turned to catch Allison's elbow.

Nudging my head to signal Lydia, I said, "Keep an eye on her? She's trying to put on a brave face but it's obvious she's not handling this well."

"Don't worry, Nora." Allison said. "I will. Go watch my _ex-boyfriend _play lacrosse."

I nodded and smiled, leaving to catch up with Vee. When I fell in step with her, she said, "Fugue state, huh? I don't even know what that means."

"Just be glad she's not dead because of the Bite." I responded. "I am."

"After she was so bitchy to Allison, who was only trying to make her feel better." Vee asked. "I think most people would rather she died."

"Vee!" I said, appalled. "Don't even say that. Allison thinks that's Lydia's self-defence mechanism."

"The one thing I'm glad about," Vee said. "That she doesn't have claws. She already scratches bad enough with her manicured nails, we don't need her popping out real ones."

"Jackson got the Bite." I said. "Tonight's the full moon. Derek told me he refused him, to be in his pack. Remember when I told you he had that nose bleed?" Vee nodded. "It was black. Like black blood. Derek thinks his body's fighting the Bite."

"Maybe that's what happened with Lydia, and her's was successful because she was unconscious."

"Do you think consciousness is a contributing factor?"

"I once read while unconscious your body does most of its healing. That's why doctors recommend lots of rest."

"I thought doctors recommend lots of rest to not wear yourself out."

Vee mulled this over. "Could be true. Point is, we'll have our answer tonight. If Jackson actually Shifts."

"How will we even know?"

"We don't always have to do such complicated schemes, Nora." Vee tutted. "We could just ask him. Honestly, do you think we're spies or something?"

I laughed, out loud. Someone beside me sneered. Vee and I took a place at the mostly-empty stands. The only lacrosse players I recognized was Stiles and Scott sitting at the foot of the stands, with Scott holding gear that didn't seem to be his own. Jackson and Matt were also talking to each other, a few stands down, deep in conversation.

Vee twitched beside me. "Do you smell that?" She looked over and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, dumb move. Of course you don't." Vee scanned the crowd.

"What? What is it?" I asked, feeling a mass of hysteria cloud over.

Vee pointed at a tall, lanky guy wearing the number 14. "Isaac." She said. "Derek let him come to school today?"

I didn't get to answer her. Coach chirped his shrill whistle and announced, "Let's go. Line it up!" Scott ran to the goal with a guy in number 32 in front of him. A short line filed beside Coach, consisting of Danny, Matt, Jackson, Isaac and Stiles. Two or three of the lacrosse players I didn't recognize. Thomas Rookery was in the other line, waiting his turn.

"Faster!" Coach pushed. "Make Daddy proud."

"Why is Scott going in goal? I thought that was Danny's position." Vee said.

"It is." Patch answered, sweeping the stands to sit beside her. "But this is Scott and Stiles' plan. Scott switched with Danny to smell out the new Beta. He can't tell which it is. Unlike you." Patch gave Vee's knee a kind bump. She didn't respond to the compliment.

Coach twirped his whistle and tossed the ball to the front player, in an 18 jersey. I didn't know him. Scott dashed forward, passing the goal-protector (was that the position?), who threw out his hands in surprise, long lacrosse stick swinging.

Scott tackled the guy down, arm going over his chest to plant him to the ground. They fell chest-to-chest.

"Arousing." Patch remarked.

Scott helped lift the guy, hands wrapped around him to press his chest to his nose and sniff. Coach stood between them. "McCall!" He growled.

"Yeah?" Scott breathed.

"Usually the goalie..." The guy gestured as he left to go back to the stands. "Stays somewhere in the vicinity of the actual goal." Coach finished pointing to the square net.

"Yes, Coach." Scott said, running back into it.

"Nora?" Patch asked, rubbing his jaw.

"Yeah." I said, leaning over Vee.

"Why didn't you tell Scott about Isaac?"

The question stung. "Because, as the female Alpha of the pack, it's not my business to tell Omegas about the Betas of my pack." My answer shocked him. He recoiled, raising his eyebrows at the tone of voice. Vee pointed a look at me. It said, _What the hell?_

"Let's try it again." Coach said. He blew his whistle. Matt glared at Scott. Catching the tossed ball in his net, Matt steadied himself and charged. Scott ran past the guy, blundering the field, to shoulder Matt's legs strategically, crouching low. Matt flipped in the air to land on his back with a grunt. Coach pulled out the hair on his temples.

Scott went sniffing at his helmet, in a defensive bestial stance. "What the hell man?" Matt said, loud enough for most people in the stands, not just Vee, Patch and I, who were sitting up-close, to hear, spreading his gloved-hands.

"My bad, dude." Scott said, whipping up to rocket back into the goal.

"McCall!" Coach swung his arm as if to swat the back of his head. "The position's goal-keeper. Not goal-abandoner." I was almost sure that was sarcasm.

"Sorry, Coach." Scott said, balancing on one leg and turning with an involuntary smile on his face. He was having fun? Scott hopped in the goal to warm up, I was guessing.

Coach whistled, tossed the ball. The next guy, whom I didn't know, caught it and ran forward. The goal-protector (let's call him that) had his stick planted on the ground, a hand on his hip waiting for Scott to whirl past him. With the blunt end of his stick, Scott struck the guy so hard he flew up. In the air he kicked out his legs to spread his body and splash onto his stomach, hard.

Coach stomped on the ground like an angry bull. Most people, including Danny who was up next, recoiled at the sight. Danny turned to look at Jackson behind him.

Scott dropped to all fours and began sniffling around the fallen player.

"Stilinski," Coach said, hooking a finger in Stiles' helmet and pulling him, "What the hell is wrong with your friend?" He boomed.

Scott ran back in goal. While Coach was naturally a loud-speaker, Stiles wasn't. His answer was muttered, and even though I strained to hear it, I couldn't. The end result was Coach throwing Stiles back and walking away, mumbling something inaudibly.

Danny caught the ball in his net on the chirp of the whistle. "Let's fire it up." Coach said. Scott flaired forward. Danny didn't hesitant.

They met head on, crashing with their sticks, chests, and helmets violently padding. Scott gained the upperhand, throwing his arms around his neck to swing him to the field. Danny's back hit the floor with Scott over him, butt in the air like a feeding lion. He took a deep whiff, which Danny responded to grumbling something in that deep voice that I didn't hear. Whatever it was, Scott nodded and said something back before looking up at his Coach who roared with a whistle, "McCall!"

"You come out of that goal, one more time," He wagged his finger. Danny slipped out from under Scott, who raised an arm so he could get to his feet. "And you'll be doing suicide runs 'till you die." Scott scrambled to his feet, bending over. "It'll be the first even suicide run that actually ends in a suicide. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach." Scott responded, automatically, using his stick as a back-scratcher.

Coach nodded and smiled mockingly before turning with a blank expression of hate on his face. Jackson stared. Those piercing blue eyes shot into Scott's with not fear, but understanding. He knew what Scott was doing, and thought it was for his benefit. To sniff him out. He was wrong.

"Coach, my shoulder's hurting I'm gonna... I'm gonna sit this one out." Jackson left the line to plop down on the stands. Scott bent his head miniscually in question.

"It's about time." Vee said.

Isaac was the next one in line, in front of Stiles. Something was wrong. I could feel it rattling my bones. His chest was heaving, the rise and fall of his shoulders accompanied by something like a growling huff. Stiles stared at the back of his head while Scott stared at Jackson, who met his gaze.

They locked eyes, Scott and Isaac, and I knew I had to do something to stop it. Isaac's heart rate. That was what I was feeling, like a second pulse beating in my skin. He couldn't Shift here, not now.

Coach unceremoniously whistled and tossed the ball. Isaac caught it with an easy, animalistic grace that spread his legs. He started towards Scott, and Scott ran to meet him halfway, spitting up patches of dried grass and clumps of dirt under the studs of their shoes. They ran until they collided and I felt Isaac's heart beat fade away in my body.

I rose.

Sticks discarded, the two hit the ground on their gloved hands and naked knees. Breathing hard, Scott looked up. Isaac, sensing the other wolf's gaze, tipping his head up, too. I don't know if it was because I was expecting to see it or because the glow was bright enough to see from where I sat with Vee and Patch, but red flags waved in my head.

Isaac's golden eyes shone into Scott's.

Coach chirped his whistle, putting it to good use. Both of them bowed their heads, glowing eyes fading fast. The sound of voices crackling through a radio pulled me out of my reverie. Sheriff Stilinski sandwhiched between two other overtly round cops, one pale and one dark-skinned, walked towards Isaac. Scott turned to stare at him with an open mouth.

"Don't tell them." Isaac whispered. "Please, don't tell them."

His voice was hushed and low, yet without werewolf hearing, his voice rang loud and clear pressed up against my ear like his lips had been there.

The cops pulled Isaac away to talk to him.

Scott rose and Stiles ran to him. I dropped in the stands and with Vee and Patch went to them, too.

"His father's dead." Scott said. "I think he was murdered."

Sheriff Stilinski touched Isaac's shoulder and said, "C'mon."

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Patch asked.

"I'm not sure, why?" Scott asked back.

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours." Stiles said.

"What like overnight?" Vee asked.

"During the full moon." I completed, horror-stricken.

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?" Vee asked Stiles.

"People good," Stiles answered. "Werewolves... probably not that good."

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah." Stiles said.

"He does." Scott said, aiming a look toward Vee and I. Isaac looked back, helplessly. Had he heard us? I didn't like the way one cop had his hand around his arm possessively. Isaac wasn't his. They couldn't lock him up.

* * *

In chemistry class, I switched seats with Marcie to be nearer to Scott and Stiles. Mr. Harris was writing something on the chalk board he expected us to copy into our notes. It was textbook stuff, so I didn't bother.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Scott wondered. I, myself, hadn't so much. I knew his father beat him, and that was probably part of the reason, but other than that I didn't see why Derek thought Isaac would make a good Beta.

"Peter told me that if the Bite doesn't turn you it could kill you." Stiles said, quick to answer. "Maybe teenagers have a better chance at surviving."

"Does being a teenager mean that your dad can't hold him?" Scott asked.

"Yeah." I piped up. "I thought you couldn't hold minors."

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence." Stiles said. "Or a witness!" Stiles turned to face Danny, then whipped around dramatically the other way. "Danny!" He hissed. When he looked up, he asked, "Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office, talking to your dad." Danny said, shortly.

Stiles looked like someone had had a party and didn't invite him to it. "What? Why?"

"Maybe because he lives across the street from _Isaac_." He said Isaac's name with raising brows and concern covered features. Like he was some kind of criminal.

"Witness." Scott said.

"We gotta get to the principal's office." Stiles said.

"How?" Scott asked.

I waved. They both looked at me. I held up one finger. Tearing out a piece of paper from my notebook, I scrunched it up and aimed it at Mr. Harris's head.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three." Mr. Harris said. I tossed it. It bounced off the top of his head, making him flinch. Laughter bubbled up around me. Marcie nudged my elbow. He turned, "Who in the hell did that?"

Scott and Stiles pointed at each other.

* * *

After class I bolted out the door, and down the corridor. Scott was racing down the steps to the landing. Our eyes met and we sprinted together, elbows bumping in half-circles, for the blue doors just beyond our reach in the stretch of hallway.

Scott bashed open the door, wedging it for me to get past. Isaac's curly blonde head turned just in time to see us. Pleading with his eyes, Scott bounded down a few steps. The car's engine revved, and we were forced to watch him drive away in the back seat of the patrol car, still hoping, still waiting for us to come rescue him. Me, his female Alpha, Scott, a packless Omega.

Derek's Camaro pulled up. Scott watched me jump down into the car and snuggle in the seat. Derek had to say, "Get in." for Scott to even consider it. Derek had on dark sunglasses and a black leather jacket.

"Are you serious?" Scott asked. Pointing in Isaac's direction, he continued, "You did that. That's your fault."

Derek took a while to answer, hand thrown over the steering wheel tightening and head dipped a little too low. "I know that." He said. Tipping up his eyebrows, he added, "Now get in the car. And help me."

"No, I've got a better idea." Scott said.

"Scott," I began, but he cut me off.

"I'm gonna call a lawyer! Because a lawyer might actually have a chance of getting him out before the moon goes up."

"Not when they do a real search of the house." Derek said.

"What'd you mean?" Scott asked.

"Whatever Jackson said to the cops... what's in the house is worse." Scott raised his brows. "A lot worse." Derek confirmed, bobbing his head.

I pushed open the back seat door. Scott shucked off his backpack and slid inside.

* * *

Derek, very thoughtfully, brought a flashlight for me to bring into the Lahey house. There were two in his glove compartment. Scott took one for himself.

Inside, the beams of light did little to show up the shadow-riddled house. "If Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" I asked Derek, who was so concealed in shadows his hair blended into the black shapeless background.

"I don't know yet." Derek said quickly, wanting to rush off the topic. An Alpha having an unknown threat, that's what Derek was.

Scott started into the house, flashlight shining the way. "Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" He asked. When Derek didn't answer he turned to look at him, flashing the beam momentarily down the hall.

"Because I trust my senses." Derek answered curtly. He added, with a touch of more patience, "And it's a combination of them. Not just your… sense of _smell_."

Scott stopped. Gulping, Adam's apple riding the length of his throat, he asked, nervously, "You… saw the lacrosse thing today?"

"Yeah." Derek bit.

Scott sighed, heavily.

Cringing, he asked, "Did it look that bad?"

Derek remained blank-looking. He clamped his hand over Scott's shoulder, and said, "Yeah." with the same effect. Scott sighed again, rolling his eyes.

Reaching a door, Derek asked Scott, "You wanna learn?" Behind the now open door a short staircase showed down into a basement full of oddly-placed knickknacks. "Start now."

Scott ran his beam up and down the floor. Taking slow, tentative steps onto the first panel of the stairs, he asked, "What's down there?"

I looked at Derek for the answer.

"Motive." Was all he said, as Scott continued down the steps. Derek remained at the top. The beam in my hand sputtered.

"What am I looking for?" Scott asked. I slapped the flashlight until the flickering lights changed into a steady pasty beam.

"Follow your senses." Derek said gently. It sounded like a command, not a suggestion. I wondered if Vee would benefit from this lesson. How much of her senses did she really know how to use?

Scott left my sight. Small noises hailed up, otherwise I would have thought he left. "What happened down here?" Scott asked.

Derek replied, cryptically, "The kind of thing that leaves an impression."

"Can wolves read impressions?" I asked, shining my beam onto Derek's face. His pupils shrunk under the burning gaze, face remaining all but fazed. Apologizing, I lowered my arm.

"When a wolf can't read an impression, it's either young or damaged."

"Damaged?"

Derek looked at me. "Blind. Deaf. Numb. Anosmic."

It was quiet for a long time. I wanted to go down there, see what Scott was seeing, but it was a moot point. I wasn't a werewolf. Whatever impression Scott was seeing, was sensing, I couldn't percept humanly.

"You can go down there," Derek said. "If you want."

_Not that I needed Derek's (or an Alpha's) permission. _I strode to the stairs. Under my weight, they groaned inconsiderably. They hadn't under Scott's. If it wasn't a werewolf thing, I needed to cut back on the calories. Maybe even adopt Vee's disregarded colour wheel fruit diet.

Scott was standing in front of an overturned fridge. Fingers creeping it open. Light smacked into him. He looked up, a frenzy overturning his face. Derek stood there, holding Scott's flashlight.

"H-H-How did you do that?" I was at a loss for words as I shakily walked up to the pair of them. He hadn't jumped past me. He hadn't even made a move since I landed on the first step.

Derek plainly gave me a smirk. He lifted his eyebrows at Scott, whose chest was heaving significantly, and said, "Open it."

Scott unclipped the open lock from the latch, lifting it to slide it out from the rusty metal. He flipped up the latch, lock still in hand, and gripped the edge of the fridge's door. Opening it like a treasure chest, Scott watched over it. I lumbered closer, trying to steal a glance at whatever was inside, whatever torture tool was festering at the bottom of the pit.

Mine and Derek's flashlight beams zipped past. I felt like someone punched the air out of my lungs. A gasp was waiting to crown out of my throat. The oxygen was there, waiting for me to use it. A blackness ringed my vision. I couldn't. I couldn't use the oxygen that Isaac had been starved inside that torturously enclosed space.

Nail marks, not claws, were carved into every square inch of the dust-layered interior like the mental wounds it must have inflicted upon Isaac's mind.

"This is why he said yes to you!" Scott accused with a startlingly steady voice. In that light, it seemed like Derek sought Isaac out just so he'd say yes and Derek would win a Beta. However, how I saw it, personally, Derek offered Isaac an out by giving him the means to stop his dad—not by his death, but by… doing something like breaking out of the fridge.

"Everybody wants power." Derek reasoned, in an agreeing, undenying tone.

Scott waited a fistful of heartbeats before speaking again. "If we help you, then you have to stop!" _We?_ "You can't just go around, turning _people _into _werewolves!_"

"I can if they're willing!" Derek contended.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents?" He whispered Allison's last name like a curse; uttering it too loud would cause some great disaster. "About being hunted?"

"Yes. And he still asked."

"Then he's an idiot." Scott said feverishly.

"And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter." Derek drawled. Scott looked grief-stricken. "Yeah. I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it's going to take for them to find out?" Scott looked down. "You saw what happens to an Omega."

"Wait, what? Scott—you saw that?" I scowled at Derek. He sent me there, knowing an Omega was in town, probably knowing that the Argents would kill it, just to manipulate Scott into joining his pack. Derek used me as a means to barter Scott into his pack, as a means to an end he desired.

"With me you learn how to use all your senses." He clapped a hand onto Scott's shoulder, ignoring me flatly. His hand didn't grind this time, it was a friendlier touch. "With me you learn control." Derek looked down, obscenely long lashes flicking to brush his cheek. He brought up Scott's hand, fingertips oozing claws excruciatingly sluggishly. The tips were white, long like bone. In the centre where pink flesh was squeezed under nail, red flared in Scott's claws.

Scott released his hand from Derek's hold. "If I'm with you, I lose her."

"You're going to lose her anyway." Derek said, tapping the lip of the fridge door to shut it. "You know that." He started to walk away, leaving Scott trying to fight the moon's enthralling singing through his veins. That's how Vee described it to me, once.

"Wait!" Scott called out, stopping Derek. "I'm not part of your pack." He said, hooking Derek's eyebrows together. "But I want him out. He's my responsibility, too."

"Why? Because he's one of us." Derek threw out his hand towards me. Was I one of them? Or was I another means to his end?

"Because he's _innocent._"

* * *

Stiles picked Derek and me up from the Lahey house, taking us to the Beacon County Sheriff Station. Vee was on her way to the Lahey house where Allison was going to lock her and Scott up. Not together, Derek warned, or else they'd either rip each other apart or he'd knot and mate her. Gross.

Stiles rolled the Jeep to a stop, parking at the curb of the Beacon County Sheriff Station, whilst a man walked by lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk. A dark-skinned woman with black hair tied back was filing paperwork at the front desk.

"Okay." Stiles said. "The keys to every cell are in a password-protected lockbox in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk."

"I'll distract her." Derek said, reaching over to unlock the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Stiles said, clasping his hand on Derek's leather-clad bicep. "You? You're not going in there." Derek riffled his eyes at Stiles' hand, then into his eyes, and back again at his hand, ending on his eyes again to signal a not-so-subtle message. "I'm taking my hand off." Stiles said, refusing to meet Derek's eyes, instead staring at the A/C of his Jeep.

"I was exonerated." Derek said.

"You're still a person of interest." Stiles reminded him.

"An innocent person."

"An… you? Yeah. Right." Stiles laughed. Derek shrugged, playing the part of innocently… cutely, for lack of a better work because Derek was not cute. He very rarely was cute in my book. Not commonly. It was a very sporadic occurrence. Never… was Derek… cute… to me… "Fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her." Derek said amusingly, nodding, sounding gentler and making Stiles look stupider than they really were, respectively.

"Uh-huh. How? By punching her in the face?" Stiles groaned his lips between his teeth, squinting to make a rock on look and throwing his head forward, moaning, "Yeah."

Derek faked a laugh. "By talking to her."

"Okay. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?"

Derek sighed, remaining quiet.

Stiles mimicked him. "Dead silence? That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

Derek pretended thinking it over, wrinkling his forehead and rolling his eyes, "Thinking about punching _you_ in the face."

Stiles made a look that I didn't know if he was pretending to be hurt and shocked or if he actually was, leaving his mouth agape and his eyes narrowed. All the while I sat there, in the backseat like a wallflower, I wondered if this Derek, sarcastic and witty and laughable, was the real Derek and if I should be threatened by Stiles who could pull it out of him better than I could.

Derek went in first, to talk to the Deputy at the front office.

I didn't realize until I saw it firsthand, but I Derek really did have a soft spot for Stiles. Their relationship was odd, the sourwolf and the spazzy younger kid.

It didn't make me jealous, per se, that the two of them had this back-and-forth chemistry. I only wished that Derek wasn't so pained half the time. Being with Stiles changed that. Not only was he like a goofy sidekick, Stiles was Derek's laughing medicine. The pain and the hurt vanished when you blinked if Stiles was close to Derek, you could see it up-front in that car. They were blind to it, too close to see it, really, but from a third person viewer looking in you could really really see how good Stiles was for Derek, even if they couldn't admit it to each other. If the two of them ever got over themselves I could really see them becoming more than just acquaintances. Despite the age difference, Stiles could be a friend to Derek, and that's what he needed. Not Betas. Friends.

"Good evening, how can I help…?" The woman threw down the file she was holding. "You?"

"Hi." Derek said, face lit up like the moon with an ear-to-ear, splitting grin that showed brilliant white teeth and rounded green eyes that were too pretty to look away from.

"_Hi_." The woman pronounced.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Urgh, I had a question." Derek said, façade breaking and that gentle tone picking up again. "Urgh, sorry, I'm a little… little thrown I wasn't really expecting someone…" He let her fill the blank. Stiles signalled for us to start walking.

"Like… me?" She asked, hopeful. I quirked a brow.

"I was going to say so incredibly beautiful but I guess, yeah, that would be the same thing." Derek coaxed, as the phone started to ring. I opened my mouth, jealousy biting me deep. Before I could blow our cover, Stiles grabbed my scarred wrist and pulled me with him into the hall down past the flirting woman and Derek.

It was too dark, but Stiles seemed to know where he was going. I followed him through his dad's office, presumably, where he flung himself at the wall where a grey box full of black buttons was embedded.

With his long pale fingers he began tapping. When I reached him, he pulled the block into his hands. But behind it was empty. Keys rattling sounded from behind. We shared a look.

"Ooh, no." He said, before darting away.

I followed stealthily behind him, checking every room we past to see if anyone had keys in their hands. Stiles rounded the corner before me, but stopped. "Whoa, err." I pressed my back flat to the wall, eclipsing my nose and mouth with my hand to stop my loud breathing. Stiles stuttered. "Er, um, just looking, err." A long pause. "Aww, shi—" Harsh, clipped sounds of struggling shoes and silencing ensued.

A very desperate feeling was thrown over me. Without some kind of weapon, who was I? What could I do to help? Stiles said on the way to the Station that Allison called saying her dad and grandfather sent a guy in Deputy Uniform there. She slowed him down but he's the only person Stiles would act like that to, and the only person who would stop Stiles from screaming out. Any other Deputy would just ask him to leave.

If he was a hunter I could tell him Stiles was here with me, Argent's apprentice and daughter of Harrison Grey. I could threaten him and say Gerard wouldn't be happy about what he was doing. I'd say that they sent me to make sure nobody hurt Isaac until the others came. If he asked who the others were I'd say Gerard told me not to tell anyone because it was Code.

The fire alarm began to ring. Stiles' doing, probably. Signalling danger to Derek for help.

I ran, following the trail of blood and dreading what the hunter must've done to Stiles for so much red to come out of him. The red flashing lights that circled me as I past momentarily blinded me.

What I saw next was worth of blindness.

The hunter, who had the broken tip of an arrow plunged into his thigh, raised a syringe. Isaac caught his hand, growling. He slowly lowered it, fingers enclipsed around the hunter and most likely stopping the blood flow. Bones crunched.

The hunter cried out, the syringe forgotten. He reached to cup his arm. Isaac, with claws on the ends of his fingers, gripped the hunter's head and shoved him back. Unconscious from the blow, he slid down the wall to slump on the floor.

What was in the syringe was wolfsbane. It had to be. So I crunched it under my foot, raising Isaac's alarm. Snarling, he turned to stare. Isaac, who had once been so beautiful, had curling hair the same shade of mixed brown-blonde flowing elegantly in a type of ringlets down his cheeks. Ears spiked through the sea of waves. Brow puckered in anger, nose flared. Teeth sharper and canines, or fangs now, spiny. His eyes were wolf eyes, not glowing but an ochre colour. They saw _into_me. Briefly, I let myself wonder how his soft hair must feel down his cheeks and if he were to transform into a wolf if his fur would look as soft and curly as his hair.

"Isaac." I warned, as he took a predatory step forward. "_Isaac._" I presaged, more captivatingly. Eyes burning, like power was radiating there, I let the full force of what I was feeling lock eyes on him. A certain red was reflected back in his eyes from mine. A trick of the light? From the fire alarm? A trick of the light. From the fire alarm.

Caught in something else, he looked past me, onto something on the floor. Stiles. "Isaac, no!"

Derek growled, baring his top and bottom fangs with eyes full of fervour.

Isaac whimpered, ducking to hide himself beside the hunter's legs. He cowered into his arms, pressing his nose against the wall. Eventually, when he looked back at Derek, who was standing grandly a step in front of me, his features had gone back to humankind. A sheen of sweat plastered his curls to his forehead.

Stiles sighed audibly a few times before asking, "How did you do that?"

Bemusement criss-crossed over his face, Derek said, "I'm the Alpha." Causing Stiles' eyebrows to fire up and down, staring at the beads of sweat on Isaac's cowering face.

After the three of us left to avoid suspicion from the cops, leaving Stiles to clean up the mess, I got a panicked call from Vee. "Nora! Nora! Ohmigod." She said, hurriedly and wildly. "Allison. S-She tied me and Scott up in the Lahey's basement b-because of the full moon." A ragged gasp. "But after a while w-we heard her scream. Scott broke out of the fridge and then came to free me from the shackles on the wall because I wasn't, wasn't strong enough to free myself. They were…" She paused again, still winded for some reason. "Pretty strong shackles. And when we broke through the door and came to Allison's aid, this, this, this freaking creepy lizard with a real tail was there. It was like hissing and all black and scaly and kinda reminded me of that serpent god Set from the _Conan _movie we watched last year for the eZine." Vee dragged in a long breathe. "Scott and I intimidated it, I think. To get away, because we were blocking the exit, it scaled the wall up to the ceiling and scurried off through the ceiling to reach the door behind us. It vanished and Scott and I tried to follow it but it was just—gone!"

I hung up without saying goodbye to Vee and turned to Derek, who was driving me and Isaac home in Stiles' Jeep to get his Camaro from the Lahey house. Isaac was tired and needing sleep after his first full moon. I was glad he was asleep in the backseat of Stiles' Jeep for this. "I think I know what killed Isaac's father." I said, making Derek turn to look at me solicitously.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3: ICE PICK

"It's only been a day after the full moon." Ms. Morrell said in her slow, calculating voice. "Are you regretting your decisions after seeing one of your Betas turn?"

"Are you trying to make me doubt myself?" I asked, snippy and childlike. "Because you don't even have to. I'm regretting the decision every second of it." It felt good to finally lift the weight off my chest that came with becoming the female Alpha of the Hale pack. "Things are h-happening to me."

"Symptoms?" Ms. Morrell had her elbows on the desk.

"You never take notes during our sessions." I stalled. "But my file is right there on your desk."

"Nice observation." Ms. Morrell said, tucking my file into her drawer. "I like to talk one-on-one with my patient. I make notes after the session. Otherwise it feels too—"

"Impersonal."

"Yes." She said. "But you've avoided the question."

"I'm not coming down with some disease." I argued. "This isn't something that can be cured."

"Most diseases aren't. The fatal ones, anyway."

"Comparing becoming a human female Alpha to a fatal disease like cancer isn't something that bodes well for the predicament I'm in." She remained silent. "You're not helping!"

"And you're not taking my suggestions." Ms. Morrell said, bending her head to squat her eyes into mine. "List. Symptoms."

"It would be easier to take your _suggestions _if they weren't always sugar coated."

Ms. Morrell smiled provokingly. "You're a smart girl, I know you can handle it." Her smile left her face. It was a pity, too. She had such a nice, rare smile. Maybe the rarity of it was what made it nice. "List symptoms."

"So the disease metaphor stays." I leaned forward, so my back wasn't being supported by the chair. "Fine." I counted on my fingers. "A strong desire to be around Derek more frequently than usual. An uncomfortably aggressive feeling whenever something bad happens to Isaac. Speaking information I never knew but do now, spontaneously. And just yesterday my eyes… hurt."

"Let's start at your first point." Ms. Morrell said, raising a notepad she had been scribbling on. "A desire to be around Derek more frequently." She read. "Once a wolf picks a mate the instinct to be around them is natural."

"He's not my mate."

"Boyfriend?"

I thought it over. "You could say that, I guess."

"Think of it as a new relationship. When you meet someone new that you like, don't you want to spend more time around them?"

I nodded.

"There you go. Get to know Derek, is my suggestion. That feeling may never leave but perhaps you can… sate it."

"Okay. Noted."

"Your second point was," She read, "An uncomfortable and aggressive feeling when something bad happens to Isaac." She looked up.

"Correct." I assured her.

"What's meant by it?"

"When the police arrested Isaac, one of them put an arm on his wrist so he wouldn't escape. I didn't like it. I felt it was… I felt like someone was touching…" I looked down, shameful. "Something that was mine. Like Isaac was my possession."

A frown was placed over her face. "I'm not sure how to speak about this without making you uncomfortable."

Sighing, I pinched the bridges of my nose. One of Derek's mannerisms. "Just say it."

"Wolves feel protective over their new cubs, just like a human mother would over a newborn. I'm not saying Isaac is Derek and your baby but the implication is that as a newbie pup, to protect it as the mother of the pack is… natural. Until it… _he_ learns to fend for himself you'll feel the need to do what you can for him."

"What's your suggestion?"

Ms. Morrell made a face. "Teach him what you know? Any other Beta that Derek Bites will be just as inexperienced and you'll go through the same. Try to change the dynamic."

"Accepting the role as female Alpha means being the mother of the pack, so, like, licking their wounds and nursing them?"

"It doesn't have to be." Ms. Morrell said. "Instead of being a mother, why don't you try being a friend? Be there for Isaac. Show him what to do, guide him into wolflihood so you'll have nothing to worry about. If you don't want to be a mother, then I strongly suggest becoming his friend." She repeated.

"That's not bad advice."

"I never give bad advice." Ms. Morrell mused. "Speaking unknown information." This time, she didn't wait for me to say something. "Muscle memory is so that our bodies remember preforming an act, as well as our minds."

"Yes, but how that have to do with knowing facts I never does knew."

"The brain is just like any other muscle in the body." She said. "Making associations is how we think. When we're up against a new threat our brains try to associate it with something we've faced in the past. I'm not insinuating you've been a female Alpha in the past but…" She chuckled, "stranger things have happened right? Okay. Let me try this at a different perspective, a different angle. People often say do the things that come naturally. Perhaps being a human Alpha is so natural to you that you don't need to be taught the ropes."

"Like when people tell mothers that everything comes naturally once you've had the baby?"

"That depends. Did you start to know things before or after Isaac was Bitten?" Ms. Morrell quirked her eyebrows.

"I'd prefer not to answer that question." I mumbled.

"Fine." Ms. Morrell's eyes skimmed the notepad. "The last point is about your eyes… burning? Do you want to elaborate on that? It's very vague."

"I saw Isaac Shifted yesterday. He started towards me but I warned him against it, just by saying his name. Then my eyes started to burn like a match or a candle was being held up to them. I-I also saw red reflected in Isaac's yellow eyes."

"Like an Alpha's red eyes?"

"Yes."

"There are many explanations for that. Hallucination and trick of the light come to mind, especially under those circumstances and with Isaac's eyes glowing like a werewolf's do. I wouldn't read too much into it." Her tone was soothing, sure. But her smile was full of lies she was trying to feed me, but didn't believe herself.

"In your experience, has a human ever had glowing werewolf eyes?"

Ms. Morrell waited a long time before answering. "Not unless they were turning into one. A Bite isn't the only way to be turned, you know. There are many, illogical, unexplainable ways someone can be turned into a werewolf."

I opened my mouth to ask more about it, only to be cut off by her.

"My advice to you about your Argent-hunting situation is a well-known quote. Have you ever heard of the phrase: Throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack?"

"Many times, actually."

"I believe you have done the best you could with a bad situation. By being Derek's inside man with the Argents, not only have you cemented your relationship with him, but you have subconsciously bonded with your deceased father by taking up his hunting habits. The Argents rely on you, in a way." She said. "It's difficult to explain. A female Alpha knows her place in the pack, so do what comes naturally. Help Derek lead the pack, advise him. With the Argents, it'll be a little tricky to break things off. It is dangerous to keep playing them, so… don't. Become a hunter. That way, you'll bridge the gap between the werewolves and the hunters."

"Gerard has declared war on werewolves. The Code means nothing anymore."

Ms. Morrell said. "Become the human hunter to become the female Alpha. You can do both. Protect the people of Beacon Hills with the Argents, but protect your pack from the Argents. Make sure none of them cross the battle lines they're drawing."

* * *

Mom was home when I came back from school. She told me Ms. Parnell was holding me against the promise I made to show Lionel around town. That so wasn't happening. I had better things to do, pack-related things that I needed to discuss with Derek.

While waiting for him in my room, there was little to do. I stripped off my jacket, laid it across my bed and begun untying my laces. The next eZine article was going to be about Isaac Lahey; missing student and coincidentally the only lead the police had to Mr. Lahey's death. The board of editors was forcing it down our throats, saying it was our responsibility.

Details to the murder of Mr. Lahey were still fuzzy. The lizard-man that attacked Allison last night was the only logical explanation to his sudden death. Reasons were still muddled, next to zero.

Shoving my boots under the bed, socks aberrantly stuffed inside, I began awkwardly shimmying out of my jeans. Folding them and placing them in my closet, I hurriedly dragged my PJ bottoms on with floral print. The matching shirt had bleach stains dribbled across. White against the blue and yellow buds.

I'd have to consult with the Argents about it. They'd have to know about it. Gerard was the new principal, with Mrs. Argent, Allison's mom, at the front office. After Derek's file went missing, which Marcie reported eagerly, Gerard was worried student confidentiality had been breached. So he had her at the desk.

Lydia acting so strangely after Peter bit her was surely to be the reason. Being out of the loop had begun to singe.

I hadn't accepted Derek's offer for that long that the Argents would already know about it. They couldn't. My position with them was delicate, fragile. If they knew about it, the chances I would be killed were high. But with Derek at my back it wasn't something I was particularly worried about. Or thought about, essentially. Until now. Derek had survived the fire, but why hadn't Kate tried to finish him off later?

I knew they'd been an item, which was how Kate managed to know when all the Hales would be home at the same time—

A gentle creak, a thudding footstep and a throat cleared pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Derek. His smell, (I didn't want to say his scent), immediately invaded my room with its musky, virile nature.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"How else would I see you?" Derek said, crawling through the window to stand on his two feet at the base of the ledge. "You never come to visit."

"That abandoned subway station? Where do you even sleep? Where does Isaac sleep?" I asked.

"I'd be happy to show you." Derek said, coming to press up against my bed. The mattress dipped with his weight. A crackle of leather to the floor and the bare undershirt of his chest on my back told me he had stripped off his jacket.

"Where Isaac sleeps?" His lips tasted my neck. I pulled out my legs from under me, placing them to the floor to stand.

"Where _I _sleep." Derek corrected. I turned to look at him. He sat with his boots on. Hands on his thighs. Moving to switch on the lights, the flare caused Derek's eyes to burn red. He blinked, looked away, down at his hands.

"I know you have a phone. Stiles has your number." I said. "Ohmigosh, Stiles got your number before I did."

Derek chuckled, darkly. Sweeping his legs out from the bed, he stood up straight to face me. "I'll give it to you now, if you want. Weren't you waiting for me?"

"Yes. We need to talk. About me being the female Alpha of your pack."

"Our pack." Derek took my hands in his, overturned my palms. Brushing his lips past my knuckles, he said, "It's our pack." He raised our entwined hands, cocked a finger, and said, "That reminds me. I've been meaning to tell you a story."

"I never imagined you as a story-teller kind of guy." I mumbled. He led us to the foot of the bed, still holding my hands in his larger, comforting ones.

"It's about a She-Wolf that led the Lamar Canyon's pack in Yellowstone. She was born in one of Yellowstone's original wolf clans, maybe two decades ago. The clan had the richest part of the land, and therefore the most game."

"Clan? Why not pack—"

Derek hushed. "Don't interrupt." Gathering his bearings, he continued, "She should have had an easy life. Her _pack _was hit by a calamity that forced her off into the wilderness, searching for a mate and a new home. As an Omega, she survived extreme temperatures of cold and rival packs that could've killed her, but she managed to live, proving her strength. She overcomes even feeding by herself, which is much harder as a wolf without a pack.

"After at least a year, she meets a young black wolf. She mates with him, quickly learning about raising a family on her own. Because, as the younger wolf is inexperience and doesn't seem to want to work to help, she becomes a provider as well as a mother. More like a big cat than a wolf, still hunting alone even though her mate's pack is with her now. And she's the female Alpha, giving birth to all the pups.

Tragedy strikes again. Her pack is attacked by a rival one. With the help of her Beta wolves, she kills them and continues to overcome all the challenged Yellowstone has to offer. Her mate, the black wolf, grows into an effective hunting partner and the two hunt together until she's six years old, the matriarch of a powerful pack with many pups. Sound familiar?"

"What are you saying, exactly, Derek—"

"Fine. Just listen to the rest of the story. Soon after, the number of elk, her prey, are decreasing in the park and food is scarce. She has to make a _choice_. Either she leaves the haven the park offers or she heads out in the world outside to hunt for food. There are dangers in the outside world a wolf like her isn't quite ready to deal with, yet.

"The She-Wolf is shot on December sixth, two-thousand-and-twelve. The last wolf to be shot to death that season. Devastated, the pack splinters off from the loss of their leader. Her mate turns his back on his takes and takes off, leaving the pack to be an Omega, a lone wolf. However, one of the She-Wolf's daughters steps up. Having inherited her mother's courageous grit, she finds a mate and a year later gives birth to her own litter: the She-Wolf's grandchildren. Ensuring the survival of her grandmother's pack, she continues its legacy." Derek paused, pursing his lips to look at me.

"I know you're scared, Nora. And it's okay to be scared." Derek said. "The She-Wolf… reminded me of you."

Flattered, and sure that was the emotion he wanted, I struggled to find words to describe what was on my mind. "Derek. I-I'm not your mate."

"Not yet." Derek half-near growled. Leaning treacherously close to my ear, he whispered, hot lips and skilled tongue flicking over a wet stripe along the shell of my ear, tickling my skin, "A wolf's mating season is from February to March." A shudder ripped through me. He laughed abruptly, low desire concealed in the off-humoured pitch. At the sight of his grin, the realization that Derek wanted me hit me hard. Hard. Something just behind my naval danced, and coiled lower.

A fiery blush worked a ways up to my cheeks. Wait! What did he say? Mating season?

"I need you," Derek said, "To help me find new Betas for our pack. Look for people who might need it." Derek listed, "For their health, for social purposes. You get the idea, right?"

"Finally." I said. "Something I can do to help. You want me to look for new recruits."

"Exactly." Derek said, closing the distance between our mouths. If he hadn't shut his lips together in that last second, I would have kissed big sparklingly white teeth.

I broke the kiss, pushing him back a little. "One other thing." I said. "Stop treating me like I'm glass." Derek's brows joined. "I see the way you treat other people. Even Stiles. You have a way about you that's so… dark and secret. With me, it seems to go away and this," I waved a hand, catching his stomach with the back of my knuckles. He didn't even flinch, "dangerous attraction between us… I've made my choice. I'm not going to run when you show me _you_. Am I making any kind of sense?"

"Yes." Derek said, throwing his weight over me. Claws bit into my wrists, holding them up over my head and grinding down on me ever so slowly and gently. "I know you're strong. You don't have to keep reminding me." He growled, nibbling on my bottom lip. I raised my hips to slam into his.

Slipping a hand out from his hold, I curled it into his hair and smashed our lips together.

* * *

Scott and Allison were up for the wall in gym class with Coach Finstock. Vee didn't share this period with me, leaving it to be just me, Scott, Allison, Stiles, Lydia, Jackson and Marcie. The best of all combinations, right? Patch was still wary to enter school, he was taking his time with enrolling back after everything that happened with Peter. By this time next week, though, I knew for sure he'd have to come back after using up all this vacation time.

Dressed in black shorts that showed too much leg than I was comfortable with and a borrowed school's lacrosse Cyclones jersey, I wrapped my arms around my torso to keep from shivering. February in a school gym with no A/C and they wonder why most were hesitant to apply.

Allison and Scott were whispering to each other, in their own bubbly world, as they climbed. Allison stopped, tossing her long, brown hair over her shoulder. Scott craned his neck to lean backwards to stare at her curves. Tossing some witty remark back at him, she began climbing with a vengeance to beat him to the top. A quarter ways up, she looked up to see Scott already there. Shrugging impishly, holding out his hands, Scott grinned.

Glaring at his footing, Allison lashed out her leg to kick at the pad he carved his toe into it. He wheeled down, all too suddenly, and came to a stop just above the mats, flailing and gasping. Laughter ensued. Allison, just realizing everyone else was still there, smiled to herself. Scott dropped onto the mats.

Coach's laughter cackled harder than any of his student's. Sitting down beside him, he said, "McCall, I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy." He wheezed laughter. "Right—here." He said, between cackles, casually flaunting a hand to his heart.

In his serious voice, "Alright!" Coach's voice rang off the walls. "Next two." He got off the mats, pointed at Stiles, "Stilinski. Erica. Let's go. The wall."

Stiles glimpsed Erica's face, grinning crookedly. He couldn't see how horrified she was?

Erica Reyes had wildly untamed blonde hair, riveting down in streams. It wasn't nearly as pretty as I made it seem. Her eyes were always wide and brown, at flight risk. It was known school-wide she was epileptic, and a pariah because of it. Like Isaac, she normally wore baggy clothes that hide her figure. But for different reasons. Isaac had bruises and scrapes and cuts to hide, recently having come to light because of his father. Erica had acne, weight gain and all the other symptoms that come with anti-epilepsy medication.

Playfully eager, and obnoxiously oblivious, Stiles, in a baby blue shirt that said STUD with a picture of a muffin under it, began crawling up the wall. Erica gripped one pad, the ring on her finger glinting, and pushed herself up gingerly, carefully and slowly with frustrated grunts.

Stiles wheeled down, in green tracksuit bottoms, hitting the floor to unclip the harness. Erica looked over her shoulder, daring to see the distance of the ground. Snapping her head back, sobs emanating from her body, while Stiles ignorantly tossed his fists in the air.

Her ragged breathing became louder, choppy. Bringing everyone's attention to her. Stiles looked up. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd. Punching his shoulder, I waved a hand up in the air.

"You couldn't see her like that?"

Stiles flinched, "Ow!" He said, rubbing his arm.

A crowd had gathered around Erica, wearing faces of different emotions. Coach was among them. Her cries became more evident, almost pleadingly so.

"Erica!" Coach cried out. "Dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

"Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear." Lydia said, with a touch of snark. "She's just freaking out."

"Erica!" Coach called out, louder. A few hyenas laughed behind us. I shot them a black look.

"F-I'm fine." Erica said, weakly, looking up at the top of the wall.

She couldn't make it.

"Coach." Allison said, beside Lydia. "Maybe it's not safe, you know she's epileptic."

"Wh-wh-wh-why does nobody tell me this stuff? Epitic… Erica! You-You're fine. Just… just kick off from the wall. There, there's a mat. To catch you." Coach stammered? Why was he stammering? "C'mon," He coaxed.

The poor girl inclined back, ever so slightly. Her fingers left the blue pad they were holding, and she dropped to the ground. Feet hitting the mat, her body was propelled forward. I struck out my hand to catch her.

"See, you're fine." Coach said, sweetly. "You're on the ground. Let's go. Shake it off. You're fine."

Erica unclasped the harness. Desperate to get away, she turned. The mass of bodies opened up, leaving gaps between themselves for the pariah to get through. Hyenas still barked, madly. Led by Marcie, who had a hand under her nose, struggling not to break her face in two. Wouldn't want that.

Erica swayed away, a girl lost in a sad song that wouldn't stop playing. That's what came to mind, seeing her blonde head fade away. Scott watched in sympathy, the laughter that was mocking her finally dying out, but having taken its time to.

I ran after her.

She pushed open the doors to the gym so she could slip away, outside. "Nora! Marcie! Up next." Coach hollered, when I reached the outskirts of the crowd. The gym doors just inches away.

Sighing in defeat, I turned back to the wall. Heights weren't known to be a particular thing I enjoyed very much. You could go as far to say I was frightened of heights. A phobia of them wouldn't be far off from the truth. Slap me next to Marcie, who was a cheerleader, had coordination and balance, and it was third on my nightmare list. If I was naked it'd be second. I won't even say what first is. Having lost my dad, you can imagine it, just fine.

I texted Derek two words. After our talk last night, Erica seemed like a good choice for a new Beta. Who deserved the Bite better than her? ERICA REYES showed up on the screen, the text having been successfully sent. I looked up at Scott's confused face and locked the screen, smiling shyly.

* * *

In the girl's locker room, I noticed Erica was missing. Allison shoved her stuff beside mine on the bench. "Is it okay if I get changed, here?" She asked, harmlessly. I didn't have time to over-analyse what it meant, what kind of peace offering she was actually offering. For no reason other than instinct, I kicked off outside. Allison ran after me.

Scott was rushing out of the boy's locker rooms, too. A stream of boys were behind him, and behind Allison and I, a stream of girls. Scott, naturally, was the first one there. He caught Erica bridal stlye, placed her on the floor. She was convulsing, spasming.

"Put her on her side!" Allison instructed. "Put her on her side."

Scott rolled her over, giving her his hand to crush. The whimpering noises she made while jerking uncontrollably sounded like those of a wounded animal. "How'd you know?" Allison asked.

"I just felt it." Scott said.

I gently cradled Erica's head into my lap. I brushed the blonde locks off her sweaty forehead, murmuring whatever I could think of into her ear, however cheesy. It seemed like a good idea to tell someone who was having a seizure they would be okay, and that help was coming. I wasn't out of line. She seemed to calm down after that, legs pulled up to her chest and Scott's hand was a little discoloured, but other than that she was okay. Minor jolts of electricity still shocked through her. Her chocolate brown eyes connected with mine. _Thank you_, she mouthed. I didn't know for what, but I told her she was welcome. Scott was the one she should have thanked. If not him, Derek, soon. I told him she'd be at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital through a quick text.

* * *

Stiles swiped the keys out of Boyd's hand and walked over to where Scott was sitting. Derek had given Erica the Bite, yesterday. She invited me over to her house, where her new wardrobe was spilling out onto her bed and around her room. I helped her pick it out. She looked… phenomenal. And the girl deserved this. She deserved the Bite more than Scott, more than Vee, more than Jackson. Erica needed the Bite like Isaac did. And I was the one who had told Derek to give it to her. Maybe that was why she thanked me. She knew good things were coming because of me.

Because of me. I decided who got the Bite. Teenagers had a better chance of surviving it, that's what Stiles theorized and Derek proved. Erica survived the Bite. I had no doubt that she would. Just like Isaac did. They weren't broken. They were in cocoons, now because of me they released wings.

I had the power to choose what Beta would be in my pack, given Derek's authorization. You didn't have to tell me I was already drunk on power, the quick, alluring taste was already in my mouth. It was seductive, mind-numbing, idyllic. And it was just the beginning.

Leaning up against a beam in the corner of the cafeteria, just like Jackson had once, biting into a green apple to distress Scott into giving him the Bite. Instead of an apple, I had my phone in my hands. Having taken this 'mission' dead-serious, I was already looking for the third Beta. Isaac and Erica weren't enough. You needed three for a basic pack, and that was just for a rule of one Alpha. I didn't know how may you needed for a pack with an Alpha and a female human as the second, but I was guessing it was double three. Isaac, Erica another, and then three more to compensate for my entry. That seemed logical for me, but what did I know? Really?

Scott and Vee were Omegas. Packless long wolves. Which meant they could join the pack, no problem. But both of them were too stubborn to even consider it. It gave Derek and I no choice. Scoping out the cafeteria, there was only one obvious choice to make: Vernon Boyd. The boy was known to be a little on the heavy side, (heavier than Vee), and sat at his table alone. Always, alone. He was his own Omega, in need of the Bite to become a Beta.

To Derek: VERNON MILTON BOYD IV

The cafeteria hushed as one entity, turning to face the enterance, bug-eyed. First it was miles of hairless, long leg coupled in leopard-printed pumps. A little higher was the tight black denim skirt that showed off the tops of her thighs. White cotton shirt with a plunging neckline under a trimmed leather jacket that was fashionably wrinkled, cut-off just above her belly button. The ring she wore was replaced by a flashier, bulkier semiprecious stone of a thing, worthy of a supermodel. Which was what Erica looked like; wavy blonde hair spilling down and around her shoulders, a fine coat of red lipstick and dark eyeshadow, but no mascara. Her long lashes were fine on their own.

A girl I recognised who had sneered with Marcie in gym yesterday turned, the boy on her table stunned by Erica. Static crossed between their eyes. Erica won. Compared to her, the girl looked like an abandoned poodle with an outrageous set of done-up curls. That was how Erica looked like now, hot enough to burn yourself on, hot enough to degrade everyone else.

Smiling a bad girl smile, she casually walked up to a table not far from where I stood. Wiping her face of all emotion, she bent over. Sweeping one arm over to snab the red apple on his tray, she kept eye-contact with the boy in a heated, glazed-over glint in her warm brown eyes. He stared as she flicked her gaze onto the mortal in front of him. Crunching a bite with hard white teeth over soft red lips, she dabbed at the corner of her mouth, smirking.

Crooking her finger to beckon me forward, Erica patiently waited while I ambled straight toward her. Lydia planted her palms onto Scott and Stiles' table. "What. The holy hell. Is that?"

"It's Erica." Scott waited a long time to reply, eyes glued to her.

Erica whirled on her heel, like we practiced together. She grinned, clip-clopping back the way she came. She laced her arm through mine, lifting her hand to scrunch another bite out of the apple. Tossing a look behind her, all eyes were still pasted to her. Or us, now, since Erica insisted I walk with her to show my position in the pack. I lead her to the front doors.

Erica laughed all the way to Derek's car.

"Stand there." She said, pointing to the wall just outside the double blue doors. "Yeah, that's good. Lift your leg so that your foot is on the wall behind you. Great." She grinned. "Smile, Nora." And she swung the door open.

Scott and Stiles popped out from the doors beside me.

Erica grinned, showing the blinding contrast of her white teeth over her red lips. The bombshell blonde slid inside the Camaro, next to Derek. In Ray Bans, he grinned, too. The Brad and Angelina of the werewolves.

Stiles, disappointed, looked to Scott, who was fuming. His nostrils flared. Cocking his head to the side, they graced me with their presence. Smirking, I turned away.

Scott bound down the steps to grip my shoulders. A surprised, yet happy, yelp escaped past my lips. Stiles verified over his shoulder, then dropped to meet us down in the patch of grass next to the brick wall building.

"You did that, didn't you?" Scott snarled. "Nora, how? How could you!"

Stiles' face showed concern. I masked the pain of Scott's fingers digging into my skin, and simply lifted my knee higher to press into his stomach. "Easy, Scott." I leaned forward, our clothes whispering together. "All I had to do," I moaned. "Was tell him to."

"To give Erica the Bite?" Stiles asked. When I nodded, he ran a hand through his buzzed hair.

Scott slammed me back into the wall. My neck whipped back. Despite the force, the dull pain that throbbed wasn't the explosion I expected. Still, it was too aggressive and too shocking.

In defence, I cracked out my elbow, splaying it over his collarbones. Using my other hand to dig into his green tee, I drove Scott off his balance and threw him up against the wall. Catching both his wrists in my hand, I rolled his arms up over his head. Scott growled, snapping forward to crack his teeth together near my throat. Eyes glowing yellow.

"Careful Scottie." I purred. "People might think we're flirting."

Scott ripped away the hand that pinned his wrists, knocking my other hand away from his shirt. "If you're with him, you're not with us, anymore."

Rage boiled up and spilled out from me. "When was I ever?" Scott winced back, puppy dog eyes creasing. "Tell me Scott, when was it that you and I actually became friends? Because I don't remember you doing anything very… friendly."

"What are you talking about?" Scott spat out.

"You were Bitten by Peter. Vee was Bitten by Peter. Forcefully. You two had no choice." I said, looking back at Stiles. "We're giving them a choice. They say yes, they get the Bite. They say no, we leave them alone." My leer stayed on Stiles, suggestively.

"The Bite ruins your life!" Scott pleaded?

"It's a gift!" I spat back, with as much malice as was inside me. "So far, it's pretty much increased your stats with everything. Lacrosse, girls."

"Yeah, when there aren't hunters after me—"

"I was there when you gave your little speech to Jackson, okay? I heard it all. Yeah, we tell them about the hunters."

"And they still want the Bite?" Stiles asked. I shrugged.

"It's wrong." Scott continued. "What you're doing is just wrong. You're picking on the weak."

"And making them strong." I argued. "Are you jealous that this isn't a one werewolf show anymore?"

"That ship sailed when your best friend, Vee, was turned. Remember her?" Scott pointed behind me. I turned to look, past Stiles, and saw Vee out in the parking lot, next to the Neon, further down. I had no doubt she had heard everything.

"What about your best friend, Scott?" I was desperate to throw the table back around on him. The look on Vee's face was too much to bear. "Stiles." My fist wrapped around his purple hoodie. "Think you could let me borrow one of these, sometime? Hoodies, plaid, leather, it all just works so well on you. Why wouldn't it smell good on me?" Scott scoffed.

"Don't try to change this around!" Scott barked. I released Stiles, who had utter astonishment all over his face. Scott got a cocky smile. "If you think the Bite is a gift…" He paused for effect. "Why haven't you taken it?"

The answer was already on the tip of my tongue, ready to fire. "Because I don't need to be a werewolf to be powerful. Much like your ex-girlfriend, Allison." I mimicked him, pausing. "I hear her hunter training's started."

Scott's face twisted. "Don't bring Allison into this." It was an actual request, under his words he said, "Don't tell anyone about our secret."

"You think you can take me?" He asked.

"I know I can."

"We'll see." Scott said.

I laughed. "Do you know what happens when an Omega challenges an Alpha?"

It was Stiles' turn to scoff. "You're not an Alpha, Nora."

Eyes burning, I hit him with all I had. The reflection in his eyes was something I was not expecting. Fear. Under the glowing red of my eyes, he was scared. I turned to face Scott, who merely stared. "See you around, boys."

Turning to leave, with my eyes pale grey again, I was stopped mid-step. Vee was still there, holding her key to the Neon. Only a hand was thrown over her mouth. And she was sobbing as she pulled away.

* * *

After Friday, Vee was already past the first stage of loss, denial, and onto anger. The messages she left on my voicemail were all of her shouting. I skipped another one of her calls, dumping my phone across the room to land on a duffle bag, and faced Derek.

I pushed down on the ejector knife for the blade to pop out. A gift from Ulrich. "You aren't going to answer that?"

"No. This time, it was Vee, not my mom." I said. "Are you ready?"

"Hit me with the best you can." Derek enticed, throwing his arms open so that his tight white vest left his torso unblocked. I charged forward, knife low and at the ready. Derek's arms went around me, squeezing until I dropped the knife. No matter how many times I kicked back his shin or threw back my head, he wouldn't let go for me to drop to the floor and pick up the knife again. He kicked it across the subway station, making it clatter next to my phone.

"You suck." I pouted.

Muzzling into my neck, wetly, Derek said, "Yeah."

* * *

On Sunday, when my mom went out to the next town over from Beacon Hills to meet a friend, Lionel stopped by the farmhouse. I opened the door and there he was, fingers laced atop his cap-covered head looking uncomfortable.

"Hello?"

Lionel raised an eyebrow. "What's with the question mark?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to cut to the chase. Not only did I not want to see Lionel, the disappointment that he wasn't Vee rang through me like a bell. Sure, I was avoiding her calls, but only because she was still angry and needed to cool off. After anger came bargaining, and I was hoping she'd try to convince me to drop out of Derek's pack face-to-face, not through the phone.

"You sound peed-off." Lionel said. "What's wrong?"

"Well, currently, there's a guy at my front door who won't go away or tell me what he wants." I said, voice taut like a wire about to snap. "He might even get hit by a door, if he doesn't—"

"Come in?" Lionel asked, throwing his foot in the way to clatter against the door, blocking it. With strength way past the muscles visible in his arms, Lionel forced the door back, wedging through the gap large enough for him to fit in. I stumbled, taking a few paces backwards. "Thanks." He smiled, charmingly, then pushed back for the door to close without looking.

"Lionel." I said his name like a warning.

"Nora." He mimicked.

"This is very close to B and E."

"On what grounds?"

"I don't want you here."

"But I want to be here."

"That defeats the point." I resisted, plummeting my hands forward to smack into his chest. He toppled backwards. His plan was to corner me? Not a good plan.

"I came by to ask you out."

"Ask me out?" Nora Grey going out with Lionel Parnell? Which mother was at work here, mine, or his? "On a date?"

"Have you ever played pool, before?" He asked, slipping his hand onto the edge of the sink, creeps away from my hip. Couldn't he try subtlety?

I removed his hand from the sink, edging around him to go back to the front door, through the living room. I called over my shoulder, "I have, so when we go out refrain from doing that manly thing where you come up behind me to press—"

"_When _we go out?" I was too flustered to notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

"If." I quickly modified. "If we go out, please refrain from…" I trailed off, pulling open the humidity-swelled door.

"Doing that real manly thing where I press up against your back." He whispered, voice going low and husky. I could feel hard muscle roll behind me, the murmurs of his clothes against mine.

"You are way too cocky." I said, grabbing his wrist to tug him to the front door. That's when it hit me. My eyes, which weren't even real Alpha werewolf eyes, were reflected when they glowed red in other people's eyes. What about real werewolf eyes? Could they be reflected by light?

Lionel dragged his heels all the way to the front door. "Are you sure I can't stay for…" He licked the sweat off the top of his lip. "Dessert? I'm a fascinating guy, just follow me around like everyone else and you'll see."

"Actually," I said, running to reach into my handbag, hanging on the edge of the kitchen door. "Mind if I… take a picture?" I lifted up my phone. "If we're gonna go out, I need your number."

Lionel dug into his shorts for his own phone. "First time a girl's ever asked me for my number."

"I'll bet."

"What?" He asked, unlocking the screen of his BlackBerry.

"Nothing. Nothing." I handed him my phone. He keyed in his number and saved it. Only after making sure the flash was on, did I snap a picture of Lionel, who irrefutably posed.

"Alright, so you've got my number and my handsome mug." He grinned, "Call me?"

"When I decide on details for our… date." I said, giving the door my hip to slam it shut. I turned to go up the stairs, starting after I heard the door shut. During our brief, but nerve-tingling conversion, the screen of my phone had locked. I unlocked it and dove right into the gallery. And there it was.

Lionel's face was blocked. Two bright blue dots in the centre of his head shone back into the picture, glaring with pixilated squares of the same shade of wolf blue. Nope, he wasn't a hunter. He was a werewolf, just like his father. Although, his mother didn't seem to notice.

"There you are."

I looked up.

Derek slid his Ray Bans off the bridge of his nose, clipped them on the shirt under his leather jacket and threw his legs off the bed.

"No, don't get up." I said. He placed his legs back on the foot of the bed. "But if you're gonna stay a while, you have to take your boots off." I threw the comforter out from the tucked in edges I had placed it this morning, making Derek squirm to fit in snugly. He placed his leather jacket on the back of my swivel chair.

"Anything else I should take off?" He teased. I snuggled up beside him. The warmth from his chest scorching my fingertips. His brows reeled in. "What's that?"

"I'm guessing that's what happens when you try to take a picture of a werewolf."

"No, I meant who's that?"

"Lionel Parnell." I said. Derek had blue eyes before becoming the Alpha. Golden eyes must be for Bitten werewolves, blue for Born werewolves and red for Alphas. "He and his mom, Lynn, moved back into town a few weeks ago. She divorced his father, who's also a wolf, and a cop, ironically."

"I think I know him." Derek said. "Not Lionel, his father. The Parnell pack."

"She doesn't know about them, but she said he used to take Lionel out into the woods of where they used to live every month to go hunting."

"He should have checked in with me before coming onto Hale property."

"I know he's an Omega, but so are Scott and Vee." I said. "Why didn't they have to check in, since they're not part of our pack?" My toes curled involuntarily at the mention of _our_ pack.

"Peter gave Scott and Vee the Bite." Derek said, relaxing enough to throw an arm over my shoulder. I pressed my ear closer into his chest, hearing the _bump bump bump bump _of his healthy heart beat. "He was a Hale, so, even though they're Omegas, they were Bitten by a Hale. They have every right to stay on Hale property as Isaac and Erica, now that they're werewolves, too. Bitten by me."

"What should we do about Lionel?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." Derek mumbled.

"Don't do anything to hurt him. He's been through enough. Can you imagine having to go with your human mom instead of your werewolf dad?" I said. "It sounds like a rough deal. Since he's a cop, she won full custody because it didn't seem safe for him to be working late nights with such a dangerous job."

"Lionel's not legal yet?"

"His mom did mention, at dinner, that his birthday was in a few weeks. He's seventeen now, but eighteen sometime soon."

Derek clicked his fingers. "That's why it smelt like that in your room." He said. "Lionel."

"Lionel was in my room?"

"Maybe." Derek said. "Although it could just be my super-sensitive nose. I could be smelling Lionel in here, when in fact, he was just in the living room."

"I don't need wolf hearing to know you're lying." I sighed, turning away from the heat of his chest. Our legs were tangled, making it harder for me to dislodge myself from him. "He stole something of mine."

"Your dad's gun?"

"That's right."

"Need help getting it back?" Derek lifted himself up by the elbows so his back was resting against the headboard.

"Please." I said. "I can handle Lionel."

"If you really can…" Derek burred. "Then maybe you can get him on our side. With the Argents bringing in more hunters, it's riskier for us to be together." Derek said. "We're going to need more fire power."

"You want me to get Lionel to be in our pack?" I asked.

"Yes." He said. "Make him trust you, then tell him you know what he is and that it's not safe to be an Omega in a town with so many hunters."

"Lionel," I mumbled, "Looks like you're getting that date after all."

"As for Vernon Boyd…"

I looked up from my phone. "Oh good, you got my text." I said. "I think he should be the next Beta. He's the perfect candidate. He's got a little weight issue, which with the Bite can be turned into muscle, and next to no friends. Packmates Isaac and Erica, and maybe Lionel, will ensure he'll say yes to you."

Derek's face split into a smile. "You're perfect for this."

* * *

Mom still wasn't home three hours later. Derek wanted to stay the night, and I wanted Derek to stay the night, but I was… scared. His story about the She-Wolf gave me more confidence but it also frightened me. She gave birth to a litter. It seemed like, after Derek said wolves mate from February to March, he wanted to. I wanted to, too, but not to have pups.

Would giving him my V-Card also mean renting out my womb to his litter? Vee would know what to do. She'd say something snarky, against Derek, then give me real heart-to-heart advice that would leave me wondering why she wasn't a guidance counsellor.

A rap on the door had me tossing the blanket draped over my legs to the floor, switching off the TV and sprinting to open the front door. Erica stood on the other end, wearing the same clothes she had to school with her buttery blonde hair a little frazzled. She had two 7-Eleven sacks in her hand.

"Hi!" She said, enthusiastically. "If I'd known you lived so far away I wouldn't have walked."

"Oh, c'mon." I said, spreading the door wider open to invite her in. "You loved running here." A slow grin spread over her face.

"You read me like a book." She said, stepping over the threshold in her leopard pumps. Following her nose into the kitchen, she dumped the bags onto the dining room table.

"What's in those?" I asked. She opened the fridge.

"Um, let's see. A purple push-up bra, a black tube top, a sequined miniskirt, hot pink fishnets and a pair of sharkskin eight and a half stiletto heels." Erica listed, bringing out a Tupperware container of yesterday's noodles. She popped open the lid and took a whiff. Mouth watering, she slapped the end of the Tupperware to belch the noodles on a hotplate and put it inside the microwave. She moved gracefully, elegantly, like she was at home. As her female Alpha, I guess mi casa was her casa.

"Okay." I said, slowly. "Why did you bring clothes here?"

She spun around, feigning distress. "I'm not allowed to come to the home of my favourite female Alpha?" She made her voice high and squeaky, like that of a cheerleading sporting blonde curls and popping pink gum. If she was a cheerleader, that would be her soprano voice. I liked better the natural feline growl voice she used more than the baby bottlehead one.

"Of course you can, Erica." I gestured to the microwave, "And you can eat all the food you want, too."

"Great!" She looked around. "Where's your mom?" The microwave beeped and Erica took the plate out, without mits, placing it onto the dining table prudently.

"Out." I said. "She's out a lot."

"Aren't you lonely?" Erica asked, pulling out a chair to seat herself in. I did the same, opposite her. The 7-Eleven bags sat silently beside us like giant elephants. "I mean, this farmhouse echoes, right? Seven rooms?"

"Yeah." I said. "How'd you know?"

"I counted when I walked in." Erica said. "Three upstairs, four here."

"Forgot how smart you really are." I said. With a silver fork I didn't know she brought from the kitchen, Erica spun the noodles around it to stick it into her mouth and suck it off so that the fork was spotless once it popped off from her lips. She didn't even have to try to be seductive. Erica ate without her lipstick bleeding, which was a shocker. I didn't think I had ever even seen her wear lipstick before, now she was a pro at eating and drinking with it on. "Want something to drink?" I asked.

"Tap water's fine."

After fetching her a glass and running it under the kitchen sink, I placed it just above her plate, under a coaster. "Thank you." She muffled.

"Now can we talk about the bags?"

"Oh, yeah! The bags." Erica put down her fork, the plate half empty now, and swallowed noisily. "I was thinking you could wear that stuff with Derek's leather jacket, you know? It would look great over that tube top."

"Woah, woah, slow down." I said. "Erica, why did you bring clothes here?"

"I thought you could wear it tomorrow." Erica said, anticlimactically. After such a big build up I thought bigger of what she actually wanted to do with the clothes. She pushed the plate toward me. "Want some?"

"I'm good!"

"Suit yourself." She pulled the plate back, wolfing it down.

"Erica, you do know I have clothes of my own I can wear to school tomorrow." I said, a little on the defensive side.

"I know." Erica said. "A nice cardigan, some plain jeans." She waved the fork around. "You're a badass female Alpha, wearing cardigans? Nuh-uh. The clothes are new, but they're mine. I don't know if they'll smell like me or not, but I hope that won't be an issue. I know I'm your Beta, so smelling like me won't do you a great deal. However," She held up an index finger, "When you wore that leather jacket…" Erica left the end of the sentence unfinished, continuing to engulf the noodles.

"Erica, I may be the Alpha but I'm still human. Which means I don't care what I smell like."

"Right now you smell like lavender." Erica said, automatically. "The clothes are new, as I was saying, so they won't really smell like me. They've been in my wardrobe since Friday so it might sort of smell but topped by Derek's scent, an Alpha's scent combined with your own, that'll be just fine."

"You made your bombshell entrance…" I said.

"Now it's time to make yours." She said in her high voice, standing to deliver her plate and empty glass. I followed her into the kitchen. "It doesn't make sense to not show off those legs!"

I lifted up the sequined skirt. "Erica, this doesn't even hide my thighs."

"Isn't it great?" She asked, not really looking for a direct answer.

"Aren't the tights a little over-the-top?"

"Over-the-top is what we want." Erica grinned. "Derek will go mad just looking at you!"

"How'd you—"

"Oh please," She waved a hand that accidentally struck my breast. "A male and female Alpha not getting down and dirty?"

"Actually we haven't, um, had…"

Erica's eyes popped out of their sockets. "You haven't?"

"And you have?" I asked, hand on hip.

Erica grinned slowly. "Touché. But how can any of your Betas take you seriously if you haven't consummated with Derek?"

"We didn't get married!"

"So what? It's not illegal. Consummate was just the wrong turn-of-phrase."

"I'm the female Alpha. I don't have to do anything I don't want to. Derek's not pushy."

Erica raised her palms. "You know best." She bumped my hip with hers. "Alpha." She said, and winked. "Do you wanna try on the clothes? I think that two sizes smaller than your frame was just enough, any smaller and they wouldn't even fit."

"They might not fit now."

Erica tipped back her head and laughed so loud it bounced off the walls like a howl.

* * *

Erica chose my clothes and make-up, returning the favour for when I did the same for her. Mascara was needed for me, but the lipstick wasn't, so long as a generous shine of lip-gloss was delivered safely. Blush, very light blush, was as much make-up as I needed, really. But Erica insisted.

I told Erica about the side-effect of push-up bras: The uniboob. Luckily, so she said, that with a cleavage like her's, or Vee's, it would happen. But with mine, which were a special case of medium, it only made them… pertly. The tube top was on the homely side. Erica said it made my breasts look _bigger_. Sequined miniskirt showed miles of leg, which Erica leered at hungrily to goad me. The hot pink flashed neon every time I moved, which was bound to drag attention from the wrong crowd. Still, Erica said with legs like mine attention was good. Besides, if I wasn't comfortable showing leg that hiding them under thinly veiled hot pink fishnets would sure to boost my ego.

Yeah, right. The sharkskin heels weren't ugly. Not at all. They were sexy, sexy, sexy. If I told myself that enough times, I hoped I would start to believe it. _Jaws_ meets Beacon Hills. I strapped myself into them and had to practice walking in them several times, pacing my bedroom.

Everything was washed away once I put on Derek's jacket.

All insecurities were scattered with the leather around my shoulders, securing me and protecting me. I looked into the mirror and saw a _woman_. Née, an Alpha. A strong, confident, sexy female Alpha that was human above all. She gave off a dominating vibe that would crush anyone in her way. It showed in the mass of out-of-control waves of my brunette hair that Erica said were disarmingly sexy. She liked the fiery red that was in my hair, but I smoothed it down because I was _not _a redhead! With my Ray Ban impersonators covering my eyes, we decided together that I wouldn't make my mark at the cafeteria like Erica did. No, my target mark would be the hallways.

Monday rolled around and with my mom in bed, I drove the Fiat Spider to school. The double blue doors burst open from Erica's punch. She topped off an imaginary hat, and curtsied for me to go. I smirked at her, feeling it take over my face without meaning to. Curtsying back, I ticked into the hall.

I had seen people stop to stare at Lydia, I had seen people hold their breaths for Erica but my reaction, personally of course, was worth more than both of those combined. The handbag I had was a black flowery corsage thing that hung down one shoulder to the cut-off of my sequined skirt.

Erica told me to head right up the steps and into homeroom, but I couldn't help it. I had to go either left or right, where more stretch of hallway was. Right led into the cafeteria. Left led into the locker rooms. I could go left and turn up one floor, where my homeroom was anyways.

People stared, jaw-slacked and open-mouthed, with mixed facial expressions. Very mixed. Most guys lingered below the hips, to the stilettos and back up to the cleavage. Others just drank it all in once-overs, twice-overs and so on. Girls, however, either snorted, were disgusted, sparked arousal or want. Not used to _that_ kind of attention from girls, I did what Erica did to that one girl from gym and held their gaze.

One girl squirmed, noticing through my dark sunglasses that I was looking at her, and turned to bury herself in her locker. When I made the turn to go left, their eyes followed me. The stretch down the left hallway was just as long as the right, and just as full as the entrance. People here were more… expressive. Wiping brows, chewing lips, exclaiming ohmygods, etcetera. But the people down this end _parted_ ways for me to pass.

A high, cheery laugh escaped my lips. Deciding to go with it, I smirked at one guy who narrowed his eyes and bit his lip so hard blood began to form at the base of his tooth.

Vee was there. I should have known. Her locker was down the left hallway. She was beside Patch, who looked as if he had gone a month or two past needing a haircut with his black hair curling past his ears. I followed my instincts and kissed the air, tipping my chin up to direct it towards them. Vee turned, slammed her locker and waited for me to clip-clop past them to turn back around. Patch stared. I mean he _stared_ through me. To Marcie.

I didn't give her the time of day. I past her, floating on a cloud so high I thought I'd never come down.

The next part was by far, the hardest.

Up the steps to the floor above, they were all there. Scattered, but all there, nonetheless. Scott, Stiles, Allison and Lydia. As if sensing that I needed her, Erica came up behind me, linked our arms like she did on Friday and proceeded to walk by them as if they didn't exist and it was just _us against the world._ I would have taken those odds.

Coupled now with Erica, who wore a stunning number made up of a cropped leather jacket that was crossed with lines, midriff and zipped up to the bottom of her breasts and a dark purple shirt tucked into her dark jeans, we got not only parting but wolf whistling. No heels, not today. Black leather ankle-high boots for her.

We smirked at each other as we past Scott and Stiles, who stared in longing, and Allison and Lydia, who had mixed expressions of anger, displeasure and astonishment, both in bad and good ways.

* * *

A few periods later, in between, I stood down from Erica's locker, leaning against mine. A few lacrosse players were across the hall, staring. They weren't a threat, though. They were just admiring Erica and I from afar. Erica was just touching up her make-up. She hadn't gone with lipstick today, it was dumbed down to high-shine lip-gloss. Scott waited for her to finish, behind her. Erica knew. She had a mirror in her locker. Of course she knew.

Breathing deeply, she smirked before turning to face him with a blank expression. Scott didn't beat around the bush.

"Twos not enough for Derek. I know he needs at least three." Scott said. I was close enough to hear him, clear as a bell. Erica turned to shut her locker with the tips of her finger. "So who's next?"

She turned and stalked towards him, "Why does there have to be a next one when we've already got you."

"Who's next?" Scott demanded, with more force behind his words. Erica cocked her head in mild surprise.

"You know, I never knew what I looked like during a seizure until someone took a video of me once, and put it online." Erica spoke quickly, expecting him to catch up.

"I don't care." Scott said, shaking his head.

Two figures clouded the turn to the hallway. Stiles and Allison. Allison lingered there, at the opening to the hall, while Stiles walked straight up to me.

"Nora—" He began.

"Shh!" I put a finger to his lips. "Listen."

"It happened during class." Erica said, without the baby soprano or the feline growl. It was a cross between them, her raw, hurt voice that was too real for me not to pay attention. Stiles, at least, understood and watched with me. Scott tried to roll his eyes, but couldn't find the heart to. "I started seizing at my desk and everyone was saying how they should put something in my mouth," She took a sharp breath, cocking her head to the right, "until some… _genius _reads the card on my keyring which tells him not to because it could break my teeth." There was the feminine growl.

"Erica." Scott said softly.

"Do you know what happens next?" Erica asked, with the same sort of sad respect, wide brown eyes glimmering. Scott sighed. "I pissed myself." Erica paused, breathing a fake laugh. "And they start laughing," Erica strode forward. Scott blinked, multiple times. "You know, the good thing about seizures," It looked like they were going back and forth, tilting their shoulders to pace forward for her and backward for him. "Was that I never remembered them." She breathed in again, quicker, "Until some brilliant _jerkoff,_" Erica threw herself at him, striking him with her hand as she screamed so his back his the lockers and it clanged deafeningly. "Had to go and put cameras on everybody's phone." Erica finished, slowly. Scott sighed, again.

Allison's presence began heavier. Her pink plaid shirt stood out sharper. She held her notebook in her arms and her phone in her hand like a gun. Stiles shared a look with me.

Erica cupped Scott's cheek, dragging her fingernails through his hair. "And look at me now, Scott." She whispered, lacing her arms over his shoulder. Scott turned his head to look at Allison. At their acknowledgement of her, she raised her chin. She seemed to be trying harder, wearing a cute red shirt striped white with a pink plaid shirt and jean shorts with dark tights and red lipstick. "That's right." Erica said, dragging Scott's attention back to her as she rolled her head. "You only have eyes for her."

Allison left.

"Look, Nora," Stiles said, "We just want to know who's next."

Scott grabbed Erica's wrists in an iron-clad grip, crushing them off his shoulders. Erica breathed through the pain, plastering a smile on her face.

"Nora!" I turned to face Stiles. "Please. Please, just… just tell us who's next. A basic pack has three, right?"

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why are you still with him," I poked my finger back to show Scott, "When you can be with us?" I tilted my head. "You can be a wolf, just like Scott. You can have _power_ just like me."

"You Derek's spokesperson, now?" Stiles asked, looking down at our touching shoes.

"Should I be?" I pressed my finger to Stiles' chin, so his head lolled up. "Am I convincing you?"

"I don't want to be a werewolf." Stiles said, carefully taking my hand away from his hand like it was a snake coiling around his neck. "I already told Peter that, when he asked, too."

"Did you mean it, then?" I asked, tipping my head to brush my nose against his shoulder. "Do you mean it, now?" I wiped the top of my head across Stiles' exposed neck so my curls tickled the bare flesh there. Goosebumps ran out. I curled my hands over his narrow shoulders. "So when are you gonna let me borrow one of your plaid shirts?"

"I thought you wanted my red hoodie."

"Why red?"

"Isn't red your favourite colour?" Stiles didn't have to ask, he already knew.

Erica had left. There was no reason to be here anymore, so I turned, leaving Stiles. "Tell Scott," I said, finding the hall empty of him. "That our next Beta is not his to save."

"What about you?" Stiles took my wrist, the cotton cuff of Derek's leather jacket, and yanked to turn me around to face him. Our chests knocked together, and Stiles took my other hand to yank the cuff lower over. "Is it too late to save you?" He dragged his tongue across his lips, one of his nervous tics.

I tugged on my wrists. "Are you going to kidnap me if I say no?"

"Of course not."

"Then let go of me." I said. He did, dropping my arms. "I don't need to be saved." Pronouncing ever word slowly to convey the message, I gestured to myself, "But wouldn't I look better with one of your hoodies?"

"I'll let you borrow my red one if you tell me who the next Beta is." Stiles promised.

Just to push him, to tease him, I stepped into his personal space like he did, and whispered, "If you want. It could be you." I searched his eyes for anything that would time me it was a possibility, the smallest enlargement of a blown pupil to tell me he wanted it. But there was none. He was as controlled as ever. "Fine." I pushed him back. "But don't act like we were ever friends. You ditched me for Lydia the second she broke up with Jackson." I left him hanging there, going the way Allison left.

She was waiting for me on the curb of the hallway.

"Oh God, you guys are everywhere." I mumbled. Allison stayed on my heels, no matter how fast-paced I walked. "Are you just going to follow me around like Scott follows you, or…?"

"If you're with Derek now, do you have a say in who he chooses as his Betas?" Allison asked.

"Allison—"

"You chose Erica, didn't you? Nora, just listen to me." Allison said. "If you keep doing this, with Derek, my father's gonna eventually find out and my grandfather's here now, so it means—"

"Ohmigosh, Allison!" I snapped. "Stop it! Just stop! Pretending to be my friend now, all of you, just stop! I don't owe you guys _anything_. The second you found out the truth you ran from me, and now that I actually have something, power, you suddenly care enough to want to talk me out of it?" I paused. "Stiles left me for Lydia, Scott ignored me even when Vee got Bitten, and you. You ignore me until your aunt dies? Just because we were both played by the same woman doesn't mean any kind of connection was formed."

"Nora." Allison said, wounded.

"Stay out of this, Allison." I warned. "Just stay away from me and stop pretending like we were all friends."

* * *

Erica and I skipped lunch. Derek came by to pick up Boyd.

"I know how they operate." I said. "Stiles will go to Boyd's house, to see if he's there." I pointed to Erica. "Where you'll be waiting for him." She smirked at me, catlike. "And Scott's gonna go to the ice rink, where they know he works."

"Where we all will be waiting." Derek smiled.

"Allison won't get in the middle of it. Her hunting training's started, Chris wants me to start too. They're at the Hale house, so you can't go there." I said. "As for Stiles…" I tutted, shaking my head at Derek. "He won't leave Scott's side, ever."

"Fine." Derek said. "C'mon." He opened the Camaro door. "Let's go to the ice rink."

* * *

"Car trouble?" Erica laughed. "Brilliant. I love the Dumpster part." Derek said.

"Is he hurt?" I asked. "You didn't break anything, did you? I mean, did you hear a crunch or a snap?"

"Careful." Derek said, "I might get jealous."

"Shh!" Erica said, eyes wide and ears stressed. "Here he comes."

Through the window of the ice rink, I saw Boyd stop the machine he was riding. They exchanged words, Scott throwing his hands up. "Show time." Derek said, and Erica giggled.

"You ready?" I asked Isaac, who was rocking a leather jacket to go with his new muscles.

Still, he was pretty quiet. Tall in an attractive, attention-grabbing way, but while Erica was something hot and burning that demanded attention, Isaac swept you up in his icy winds. He nodded, a sneer playing over his lips. "Don't be worried about me." Isaac said. "She's the new one." He jabbed out his chin to point at Erica, who was opening the door silently for Derek.

"If you're looking for friends… you can do a lot better than Derek." Scott said.

"That really hurts, Scott." Derek said, in a mocking tone. "I mean, if you're going to review me," Erica was on Derek's right, with Isaac beside her, chin held so high his head was to the side. I was at Derek's left, stations taken. "At least take a… consensus." He gestured to Erica and Isaac. "Erica. How's life been for you since we met?"

Erica had her arm propped up, hand up to her hair. "Hm." Erica sang. Tutting, she said, "In a word…" Her eyes searched the ice below her, but then flicked up to Scott's, "Transformative." Erica dropped her hands to her sides, growling with toothpick canines. Derek had already taught her that, and it wasn't even her first full moon yet. Isaac looked smug beside her, daring Scott to not stare at how good Erica seemed to be.

"Isaac." Derek said.

"Well, I'm a little bummed about being a fugitive, but other than that I'm great." He held himself so his long body was curved, ready to pounce on the balls of his feet. Erica flipped her hair back, hand on her hip, expectant.

"Okay, hold on." Scott said. "This isn't exactly a fair fight."

Derek's answer was immediate. Smiling, enough to show teeth, he wrinkled his forehead saying, "Then go home, Scott."

Scott stood his ground.

Derek gave the teeniest nod at Isaac and Erica, who advanced, ice crunching underfoot. Scott dropped to the floor, kneeling. His fist was in the hard ice. It spider-webbed. Scott flicked out his fingers, claws at the tip. "I meant fair for them." Scott growled, yellow eyes glowing, hair sprung and fangs snicked. Then, he really belched out a threatening growl.

* * *

Isaac hit the flimsy plastic ringing the ice rink. He looked up from where he was pooled on the floor. Wolfed-out and growling. Scott donkey-kicked Erica back, who grunted. She wasn't wolfed-out, because she couldn't be, yet. Her back hit the machine Boyd was still on. Isaac crunched his way over to Scott, slowly, predatorily.

Scott was ready, heaving.

Boyd watched like a hawk.

Erica struck Scott's back. He landed in Isaac's curled claws. Isaac forced Scott back, until he hit the metal Erica hit. In the melee, she went down again. When she did, Isaac tossed Scott away by the lapels of his jacket. Scott slid away, claws skating the ice sounding like hissing. He looked up, growling.

Scott charged at Isaac, sweeping him up off his feet in a tackle. They cracked to the ground. "When?" I asked Derek. Scott slammed Isaac into the ice once, before Erica wrapped herself around Scott's back, twining around him to choke him. Scott did the smart thing, and shucked her off him by ploughing her into the metal of Boyd's machine.

"Soon." Derek calculated. Was he watching the same fight I was? Our Betas were flopping around Scott, helplessly trying to get a scratch in before Scott tore into them. Their advantage was strength in numbers. Teamwork was much needed.

Erica fell to the ground, once more, causing me to whimper for her. Isaac struck out at Scott, claws itching to taste flesh. He swiped once, missed. He swiped again, Scott ducked to fist him in the stomach. Isaac doubled over and Scott hammered down his interlocked fists, hitting Isaac's spine with the meaty part of his hands. Isaac clenched his stomach, coughing. Scott landed a knee in, tossing Isaac onto his back. Scott growled, dragging Erica through the ice.

Boyd looked at me, worriedly.

"Derek!" I hissed.

Isaac and Erica were both down, and Scott stood above them. Derek, still holding traces of a smile, looked down. "Don't you get it?" Scott lisped through fangs. "He's not doing this for you! He's just adding to his own power. Okay? It's all about him. He makes you feel like he's giving you some kind of gift when all he's done is turn you into a bunch of _guard dogs_!" Scott ground Erica and Isaac through the ice to our feet.

"It's true." Derek said, looking up through his lashes. "It is about power. Look how much I've given Nora." Derek moved away from his Betas. I dropped to my knees, throwing a hand over each one, protectively. Derek's claws snicked out in a flourish of his hand. His eyes burned, I felt them through mine, saw them reflected in Scott's. His neck cracked this way and that, until Derek growled, wolfed-out up to the dark hairs framing his face.

Derek cracked his forehead to Scott's face. Scott doubled over. Derek swiped at his torso, taking a chunk out of his shirt and ripping into the skin. Scott screamed a human scream. Derek snapped his arm back to punch him twice in the face, in rapid succession, and one blow, equally brutal, to the stomach.

Scott bent over, Derek leaned to continue his assault. Scott bolted his elbow upright, catching Derek in the nose. He stumbled back, growling to shake it off. Derek smiled through the fangs. Scott held up his claws like a boxer. A punch lashed out, which Derek caught.

I ran forward.

Derek slammed his fist into Scott's face, repeatedly. Scott, dazed, could only stand so many dizzying blows. I nudged Derek with my elbow, keeping him from cracking his knuckles into Scott's face again. Instead, I dropped low to swipe my leg out and whip it to catch Scott's ankle. Scott crumpled to the floor, turning his face away from me to spit blood.

Derek crunched his boot at the base of Scott's throat. He coughed, gripping his leg for dear life and gagging. Derek held it there, growling gutturally.

"He's down, Derek stop." I called out, the weight bearing too much. "Derek, Derek, please, don't. Don't. He's down, Derek. He's _down_!"

Derek released Scott, leaving him writhing in pain on the ground. He looked at me, then Boyd and turned to go. Frost coated Scott's jacket. Boyd hopped off the machine.

"Don't." Scott said. "You don't wanna be like them."

I rose, realizing my mistake. Of course. I was still part of them, and he was still not.

"You're right." Boyd said, lifting his camouflage hoodie to show the Bite dented into his side. "I wanna be like you." I clamped my hand down on his shoulder in passing. Boyd followed me. Isaac and Erica were on their feet, prodding at the sore and bruised parts of their bodies.

Once out of earshot, "Derek! What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"You let him cream them." I said, throwing my hands out at Isaac and Erica, who looked a little offended. "I'm sorry but it's true. And you didn't even let me help them!"

"I didn't want him to hurt you. Isaac and Erica—"

"Were beaten down by Scott. He made a mockery of our Betas and your excuse for not letting me intervene is that you were afraid of him hurting me? Derek, if you haven't noticed, it's _me_. I'm not gonna come undone."

"You were part of his pack, before you were part of mine." Derek bristled.

"Doesn't mean I can't beat down my old Alpha, now that I _am _one myself. Derek, I can do this. And I will, all the way. I'm not a house of cards, so don't treat me like one. You and I both know I could have taken McCall on his ass, just like you did." I waited for him to respond. He didn't, just looked down at our shoes. "With or without a weapon, I could have."

"Then why did you listen to me?" Derek asked.

"I don't know." I said, honestly. It just came out. "You're not my Alpha, you're my mat… boyfriend." I said. "I don't know why I didn't just ignore you. I could have handled him, instead of having my Betas beaten silly." I turned to look at Erica and Isaac, I placed a hand on her elbow, pulling her fingers away from her nose. Isaac had a tiny dent on his temple from a flake of ice.

My phone chirped a message. I was growling in frustration, but stopped. All the anger at Derek was dissipated. "A hunter was killed." I said, turning to Isaac, "By the thing that killed your dad."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: ABOMINATION

At first sight of the red car coming down the road, I thought it was Marcie Millar's car. Chris parked his red Chevy Tahoe on the curb of the street, popped the passenger side door, and waited for me to wordlessly enter. His text had been vague. Other than telling me to wait outside for him, I was out of the hunter loop.

"My mom's home." I said, closing the door behind me. "So drive fast if you don't want to have to give her an alibi, as to why you're kidnapping her daughter."

"It's not kidnapping," Chris replied, shooting down the highway, "If you have the child's consent."

"And when did I give you said consent?"

"When you entered the car of your own free will." Chris ground his teeth together. I didn't have to ask the question. "Yes, I knew the hunter who died. I recruited him, personally. He died because Allison's training began, and I wanted him to stay to make sure she got out fine." The regret was palpable in his voice. If it was referring to the hunter's death or Allison's training was dealer's choice.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "Following up on a lead?"

"I think you're familiar with him." Chris said. "In fact, he's your guidance counsellor's brother."

"What will Deaton know?"

Chris cut me a sidelong look. "You're aware that he's not just a vet, aren't you?" He waited for my response, turning back to the road stretched in front of him.

"I'm aware he knows about the supernatural."

"Good enough."

By the rate he was driving, I was more than a little shocked Deputy cruisers weren't chasing us down. Even if it was late at night. I mean, wasn't that when most crime happened anyway?

Chris cut the brakes in the parking lot of Beacon Hill's Animal Clinic. The sign read closed, but to a group of hunters it might as well not have been there at all. Group. There was a car tailing Chris's. He hadn't mentioned it at all, but it was more than an educated guess to say it was Gerard's SUV.

Gerard's SUV parked beside Chris's car. Chris gestured for me to get out. Unclipping the seatbelt and popping open the door, I swung my legs out and slammed the car door shut. Chris crawled out, locked his car and sauntered up to the, shockingly, unlocked front door of the clinic.

A man who was as tall as he was overweight pulled himself from Gerard's SUV. In acknowledgement, he nodded to my direction. Giving a curt nod back, I ignored Gerard the way Chris did, going straight to the front door. The nightmares hadn't stopped revolving around him. As well as Vee, they were beginning to stare other werecreatures, like Scott, Patch and most frighteningly probably Isaac, Erica. Recently, Boyd. Derek.

I simply followed the two men in front of me, through the pitch black clinic, until they both stopped in the entrance of a room I had never been in before. Never having had pets, I didn't know the clinic's blueprint as well as a pet owner would.

The lights on were indication enough. Must've been what Chris and the obese hunter were looking for. Deaton was hunched over a lifeless man, sprawled on top of a stainless steel table. He was shirtless, wearing jeans and biker boots. Deaton was dabbing his chest with cotton wool. I didn't know what for. Until it all came into view as I stepped in front of Chris.

The man was not just lifeless. He was dead. Deceased. There was an undeniable, pallidly ashen touch to his black skin. His head was tilted to the side, arms loose. Cuts sliced from his collarbones to his stomach. Cuts made by claws that plunged deep enough to kill. The wounds were messy, ugly. Raw and multiplied ten times over, printed symmetrically in fives on each side of his chest.

Deaton stopped dabbing, hearing the soft footfalls stop. "I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent _closed_ sign."

A sigh that sounded suspiciously like a snort came from behind me. Chris stepped forward, followed by the other hunter who moved to give enough room for Gerard to make his dramatic debut.

"Hello, Alan." Gerard said in that frustratingly slow but deliberate speaking of his. Alan. First name basis, like a long trusted friend. Deaton hadn't been surprised by Chris's appearance, or mine, or the other hunters. In fact, it looked expected. They probably dropped by earlier to dump the body on him.

Emotions played on Deaton's features, emotions I had never seen before. It was the most expressive face I had ever seen him pull. The respectably sad smile fell. And was replaced by pure anguished fear. Gerard stepped forward, and Deaton stepped impulsively back.

"It's been a while." Gerard continued, moving forward in his cat-and-mouse game. Deaton looked to Chris for help, meeting Gerard's gaze a second later like he was afraid to leave the man unattended for too long. "Last I heard, you retired." Gerard said.

"Last I heard, you followed a Code of Conduct." Deaton countered.

"If you haven't noticed, this body is one of ours." Chris inter-stepped. His voice was flat, holding in what he felt like he had been taught to. It was such a pressurized, mechanical technique I recognized it in a second.

"I did." Deaton said, not missing a beat. "I also noticed the gun powder residue on his fingertips." Gerard's eyes flickered up, either holding an impressive aptitude for Deaton's keen eye or assessing him flat-out. "So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy, just cause I'll answer a few questions." Deaton's gaze left Chris to Gerard in mid-sentence.

"He was only twenty-four." Chris said, voice swelling with an angry substitute to the pain he was feeling.

I stood there, on the fringes of the argument, next to the obtuse hunter, just because I couldn't stand to be close to the dead. The hunter put a hand on my back, jolting me. When I looked up at his clouded-over face, I instantly knew the look. Recognition. Like at my father's funeral. I was too young to really see it then, but all those faces held the same look the hunter had. He knew the dead hunter who had been twenty-four, like all those people thought they knew my dad. But they didn't. That was the only difference in their expressions. This guy knew about the hunting lifestyle the dead twenty-four-year-old had adopted. Not even my mom knew that about my dad.

"Killers," Deaton said, looking to Chris with an exasperated cutting-edge to his dark eyes, "Come in all ages." He looked, pointedly, at me. With his eyes came every other pair, to rest on me. His insinuation was preposterous. I would have called him out on it, too, had there not have been a dead man lying on his table.

To drag the attention away from me, Gerard put in, "All ages, sizes, shapes." He even did a once-over of Deaton himself, to throw the insinuation back. However they knew each other, whatever history they shared, clearly they knew enough about one another to threaten to pop open the lid from the jar of dirt they held over each other's heads. "It's the last one that concerns us." He added, meaning whatever had killed the killer on the table.

"How 'bout you tell us what you've found." Chris suggested, in his no-nonsense manner.

Deaton moved to stand at the hunter's head, allowing Gerard to stand at his left, and me to move up to the dead man's right. Chris stayed between Gerard and the other hunter, who didn't move.

"See this cut." Deaton threw the man's head to the side, a sort of tendon-sounding crunch following the rapid movement. My stomach rolled. Deaton pointed at a neat line of a cut at the back of the man's neck, positioned above the bump where the spine starts. "Precise. Almost surgical." Gerard had slipped on black reading glasses and was leaning in, close enough to kiss the man's cheek. "But this isn't the wound that killed him."

Hard muscle walled at my back, warm breathing tickling the skin of my inner ear. I moved to stand closer to Deaton, giving Chris a better chance at evaluating what I was too inexperienced to truly evaluate and understand. He thanked me, bending his head to observe the cut closer.

"This had a more interesting purpose." Deaton said.

"Relating to the spine?" Gerard threw in the question without needing it there. It sounded more like a statement to which agreeing was common sense.

"That's right." Deaton agreed. "Whatever made this cut was laced with a paralytic toxin potent enough to disable all motor functions." He was talking directly to Gerard. Deaton waved a hand over the scars on the chest, the one mauled so deep interior shreds of organs were just made visible. "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side." He gestured to both, left and right.

"Five for each finger." Chris said.

"Each claw." I corrected.

He looked up at me, but I didn't meet his icy blue eyes.

"As you can see, it dug it," Deaton's gesturing was not needed, but he did it anyway, thrusting his fingers out, "Slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone of the ribcage with ease."

My stomach growled.

"You okay?" Chris asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, unconvincing everyone but Deaton, who didn't seem to care about the contents in my stomach in danger of erupting. "They're not usually this violent."

Gerard sneered. "They're almost always this violent." He said, meeting my eyes and forcing me to stare back. Chris glared. "No use lying to the girl." The connection broke so Gerard could stare at Chris, sizzling the air between their eyes. The implication being he had lied to one girl already, his daughter, and look where it had gotten her.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Chris asked Deaton, referring to the jar of dirt I didn't know about, the jar of his past that he was supposed to be retired from.

"No."

"Any idea at all what killed him?"

"No." Deaton repeated. "But I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render its victims essentially… helpless within seconds." Deaton listed, choosing his words very, very carefully.

"If you're saying we should be cautious…" Chris raised his brows to emphasize his point, "We get it."

"I'm saying you should be afraid." Deaton warned. "Be very afraid." The undertone to his voice held more than just the warning for the hunters, so much more. It felt like an omen of death, the warning before the real danger that hits so unexpectedly when the pretty girl dies in the horror movie, everyone says they saw it coming, but the killer surprises you by doing something disgusting to the body. The body that was in front of me had already been driven to death by a vicious slashing to the chest. The plot twist: Paralytic toxin laced in the claws of the beast that killed him. "Because in the natural world predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey. This prey, wasn't eaten. That means whatever killed him, only wanted to kill him. In fact, killing may be its only purpose."

"Thank you," Gerard said, "For the help." A smile playing over his knifelike lips, he added, "And the unnecessary warning."

"Oh, it was necessary." Deaton answered. "But you're not welcome. Like I said before. Just because I help once, does not mean I'll do it again." He gestured to the dead body. "This is not in my hands."

"Because you're retired?" It felt like Gerard was teasing him, darkly.

"Because I'm not a hunter." Came Deaton's reply. "Can you remove this man from my clinic, now, please?" He stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I'd like to get some sleep tonight. I suggest you do the same, Nora."

"I'll be personally escorting her home, Doc." Chris said. Gerard motioned the other hunter to the dead body. I spun around, to not see them handling his flippant limbs. Were they even going to bury him?

"That's quite alright." Deaton said. "The farmhouse is on my way home. I know for a fact, the residence you've taken up isn't."

"It's no trouble." Chris said.

"Nora?" Deaton touched my shoulder, making me jerk awake. The sounds of rigor mortis crunches had stilled me off in a trance, where I tried to block all sound. I had heard them arguing, but I wasn't really listening to what they were saying. "Are you okay?" Concern spiked through his voice.

"I-I'm fine." He sensed I didn't mean it, and turned to face me, cupping my hands. "I feel cold." I whispered to him, eyes half-lidded.

Deaton's voice wore thin to Chris, who was now the only other person in the room, "Is it really appropriate to bring a sixteen-year-old girl with you, on these escapades?"

"It's more than essential," Chris rested a hand on Deaton's shoulder, fingers scrunching in his shirt, "For her sake."

"And you wouldn't mind if I took her home, would you?" The caring in his voice was enough to fool Chris. He took one look between us and saw that there was more shared here than he thought based for a relationship with the brother of my psychologist. Nodding, Chris left, squeezing my shoulder in lament passing.

After the bell, engines kicked and tires spun. Deaton released me long enough to pull up the blinds and really make sure they had gone. "Scott?" He called out to the door on the west wall. "It's safe, now. You can go." Deaton wasn't looking up anymore, he was fiddling with the doodads scattered over the desks framing the wall above the surgery table. Wiping a wet rag over the distinct marks on the table, a bell rung and Scott was gone without saying anything to either of us.

"Deaton?" My voice was thin, distant. Trying to make it sound stronger I shook off the clouding blanket that was fogging my mind. Wasn't like it was the first time I had seen a dead body. But never so close, so real. "Deaton. How do you know Gerard?"

He gave just enough to not make me snap, to not make me suspicious and pry further. "From a long time ago."

"What did he mean when he said you were retired?" I tried a different angle, sounding passive-aggressive. "Retired from what, exactly?"

"That's a story for later." Deaton said. "Maybe a story for Marin to tell you." He scooped up a set of keys and ushered me out of the room, flipped up the block of mountain ash, and locked up behind him as the bell rung over our heads. "Right now all that's important is getting you home." He sold me a smile.

It was too dark to see Deaton's car. It looked black and the seats were comfortable enough. Out of the animal clinic's parking lot was when he started to talk, "I didn't want to leave you with Chris, tonight." He said. "It's a dangerous see-saw game you're playing, here, Nora."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do." Deaton interrupted, racing down a red light. "I don't know who told you this was a good idea—"

"Your sister seemed to encourage it." I shot at him, trying to take a reaction that would be sufficient enough to quell the need I had for answers.

"Of course she would." Deaton said, sounding big brotherly. "She was in a similar situation herself." Mumbling, "Still is."

"If I have an in with the hunters, I can stay on top of their moves and make sure they don't hurt my pack." I said, tone harsh. "You don't understand."

"I do understand, Nora. Hunting makes you feel close to your father."

A gasp died in my throat.

"Don't think that your father was the same kind of hunter as Gerard." Deaton said. "Your father was one of the most adequate, fair men I ever knew. His death was a tragedy. And it was because of the hunters he got mixed with. That, and his prying. He never stopped asking questions, Nora. Just like you." He paused, waiting to hear me breathe. "An Argent killed your father, Nora."

Tears burning my ears, I twisted in my seat to look at him. "Gerard?"

"No. The hunter that killed him died herself, just a few weeks ago."

"Kate." The name left a bitter taste on my tongue, metallic and sharp like copper. Like blood. "Kate ki-killed my dad?" A sob that I fought hard to push down escaped. "Why?" I demanded, rage consuming my mind, working fast to pulse images of her smirking blonde face reeling behind my lids.

"Your father was working with Laura, trying to determine what happened to the Hale house. What _really_ happened that night of the fire. They tracked down two leads: a man named Adrian Harris and the image of a pendant." Deaton said. "They got too close to the truth. Peter killed Laura to become Alpha and Kate shot your dad to silence him."

"She tied up any loose ends with me, right?" I asked. "Bringing me into it, blackmailing me into hunting, using my father to do it."

"Kate was manipulated by Gerard." Deaton said. "She thought she was doing the right thing, burning down that house." _I did what I was told to do._ "Just like Gerard manipulated Kate, Kate manipulated you."

"And Allison."

"And Allison." Deaton agreed. "Which is why you can't be with them anymore. You can't be with Derek and be a hunter. Peter killed Kate, but Peter's already dead. Gerard is looking for a werewolf to blame and any sympathizers are just as bad."

"How am I supposed to back out?" Unshed tears were still brimmed at the bottom of my eyes.

"It's not too late." Deaton said, cutting a fast left. "You're still young, they'll understand. Just make sure you know what you're doing."

"Concerning Derek?"

"Yes." Deaton said. "And concerning Scott. Vee. Allison. Patch. Stiles." He paused, turning the steering wheel to drift into the open space where my Fiat should be. I parked in the garage this time, leaving it empty. "They're your friends. You can't just abandon them."

My voice was barely above a whisper. "I know. But I don't want to go home."

Deaton's brow creased. "Where would you like to go?"

* * *

Vee sat in the back of Melissa McCall's car, being driven by her son, Scott, in the driver's seat. Stiles started towards it, but sped up jogging when a police cruiser past the open ambulance. Stiles buckled into the passenger side, closing the door behind him but keeping his hands in the pockets of his red hoodie.

"You okay?" Scott asked, instantly.

Stiles responded with a reassuring noise. Good enough, Vee thought. He had been through a lot. The boy ran with wolves, why was he being targeted? He happened to be at the same place the mechanic died. So what was the connection between Mr. Lahey and this mechanic?

"You were right." Stiles said. "It's not like you." Scott was looking at him with those big, earnest brown eyes, one hand on the back of Stiles' seat like the touch alone was comforting. The string between them as best friends was palpable. There was a twist in Vee's gut at the thought of Nora. "Its eyes were almost… reptilian."

The EMTs came out, wheeling the dead body away. The white sheet over it was smudged with thick prints of red, sickeningly scattered across the body.

"There was something about him."

"What'd you mean?" Scott asked.

"You know how you, like, see a friend in a Halloween mask. But you can actually see their eyes. And you feel like you know them, but you just can't figure out who it is."

Scott's jaw was slack, his voice soft. "You saying you know who it is?"

"No." Stiles said. "But I think it knew me."

Vee piped up. "Like… Nora." It hurt her physically to say it, but from their expressions someone had to mention her. They both turned in their seats to stare at her. Vee rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. They way she's been acting."

"Just because she's gone and bought herself a new wardrobe, doesn't mean—" Scott said, but Vee cut him off.

"She's the killer, yeah, I know." She said. "But if you look at her now, it's almost as if she's a familiar stranger. That person, in the Halloween mask. That you know." Stiles' eyes were bulging out of the sockets. "I'm not the only one in this car who was thinking the same thing!"

Scott looked at Stiles. "She's right. I wouldn't put it past Derek."

"I would." Stiles said, jabbing a finger at his own chest. "Nora would never kill anyone. Vee, how could you even think that!"

"Tell me, that when you look at her you don't see it. I dare you to actually look me in the eye," Vee challenged, "And say she doesn't look like that familiar stranger, you thought you knew."

"She doesn't." Stiles said. He stared at Vee, eyes locked on hers, staring hard. Scott sighed, gripping the steering wheel, ready to pull away. Vee heard it, and so did Scott. She didn't sigh though. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, and looking out the window. Even she couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. But at least she was honest about it.

The tic in Stiles' heartbeat told Vee he was lying.

* * *

Isaac stood in the subway station, bright in the dark, untrustworthy lights. He was a flash of burgundy as he spun over the ornament in his path, rolling in the air to land painfully hard on his feet. From that crouch, he clawed over a second obstacle, leaping to his feet once again, sprinting, and jumped to grab a beam beside Derek. He lunged.

Derek caught him, one-handed, and raised him in the air, only to bash him to the ground with more force, from the momentum he had gained.

Isaac twirled over the first one, spinning to land on his feet. Boyd, sitting on the stairs above, away from the action, smiled in awe at his fellow Beta. Derek's green eyes, although there seemed to be an amused smile oscillating over his lips, never stopped trailing Isaac. He never lost focus. He grabbed Isaac and threw him to the ground in a choking hold.

Again, twitching his eyes in concentration.

And again.

And again, leaving Isaac on his butt in the dust-layered floor of the subway station.

Until Erica stopped hiding. On the cart above Derek, she bounded up to pounce on him. Derek spun around, having heard her or smelt her, and swayed her to the floor beside Isaac.

Boyd lost his smile. Isaac looked over his shoulder, to check if Erica was okay or not. He was in a burgundy shirt, black pants turned grey by the dust and black boots. A definite change from the baggy clothes he used to wear to hide his beatings. Erica was in what seemed like a metallic black bustier with five slots down her body. A striped orange and black shirt over it, with black jeans and ankle-high boots made of wool. Derek stood over the two of them, a twitch consistently beating on his neck.

"Does anyone wanna try not being completely predictable?" Derek asked, walking away from them. I hurdled into him, grunting, arms out to lace around his neck. The weight caused him to step back, leaning his body away from mine to avoid knocking and nosebleeding. Legs slotted around him, supported by his hands, I pressed my lips to his. He responded, pushing back with his soft mouth, I winded by hand into the hair beside his ear. When out lips parted, I moaned to gasp in air. My elbow was pointed at his pec, the strap of his white vest scratching the hairless skin of my arm. Swollen tight muscle met mine, rippled around the vest. The hand not curled in his hair was wound around his shoulder, resting at the junction where shoulder met neck. Our lips parted again, the sound of muffled moaning and quick kissing noises heard throughout, to grab in air, directed to our lungs. I yanked on his hair, tilting his head up. His tongue slid into my mouth, running over my teeth. I nibbled on it, letting my tongue stay at the roof of my mouth for his to find. He moved his head up, dragging air through the space available between our mouths, tongue searching. They met, fought for dominance. Until I pulled back slightly. His chest met mine again, following me. My knuckles brushed the hair trailing down his neck, furrowing inky black just above to the back of his skull. I cocked my head, tongue snaking out to lick his canines. That was the moment he regained composure, dropping my legs and pushing me away. Air broke around me until the impact of the throw was softened by the two Betas who shielded me from the floor with their own bodies. Erica brushed back my hair from my forehead, Isaac wrapped a hand around my thigh to keep from sliding onto the floor.

"Why did you do that?" I asked him, groaning the hard toss. Literally. I could actually say that I had been flung by a guy, now.

"It sets a bad example to our Betas." Derek said, throwing a hand out to Erica, Boyd and Isaac.

I got my bearings, straightening up to sit in Erica's lap. "They know you're mine. Erica's not gonna kiss you." She smiled and licked her lips, nodding. "Isaac isn't going to try to kiss you." He made a face like he was thinking about it, then shoot his head. "Boyd, certainly, is not going to kiss you." Boyd cocked his head to say _she has a point_.

"I have someone else in mind for her." Derek said, mimicking Boyd and cocking his head.

Erica's reaction was… interesting. Her glossy lips parted, showing white teeth under the pink. Sweat and dirt, miniscule molecules of it, were on her brow. Hair tumbling around her. She looked up at him with big eyes, but her eyes were always big and brown and blown. Her chest was rising and falling faster than usual, but only because of the training. Still, her facial expression almost looked scared.

"Are we done?" Isaac asked, head to the side and face twisted in pain. He was winded. "Because I got about a…" He sat up, the effort causing him to pause. Erica sat up in union with him, hands still behind her to support her. "Hundred bones that need a few hours to heal." He lay his arms down on his knees.

Derek looked fretful, in compassion. He walked towards Isaac, then bent his knees, all his weight supported by the balls of his feet. Derek asked for Isaac's arm in a gesture. Isaac unwound his hand from my thigh, letting Derek take it. Boyd was standing behind us, now. I hadn't even head him move from the rickety stairs.

"Here?" Derek asked.

Isaac nodded. He wretched Isaac's arm so far off, at such a wrong angle, snaps and crunches and pops invaded my ears. As well as Isaac's aggrieved, riotous screams. Derek only stopped when Isaac's body was curved, his face facing Derek's.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, voice shaking and panicky. Erica, I think, whimpered behind me.

"A hundred and one." Derek said.

Isaac made a noise he struggled to contain, chest heaving.

"You think I'm teaching you how to fight?" Isaac turned away from him, licked his lips, and let the pain just wash over him. Boyd was staring now, in fear and in worry. "Huh? Look at me!" Erica winced, recoiling from the angry turn of Derek's voice. "I'm teaching you how to survive." Isaac glared at Derek in defiance, breathing through his nose. Isaac _oomphed _when Derek dropped him back to the ground.

I coupled Isaac in my arms, dragging his body upwards. Derek turned his back on us, walking away. "If they wanted us dead," He turned, looking over at the entrance sharply, "Why aren't they coming for us now?" Isaac's voice was dull, lost on the perkiness it held before. He cradled his arm to his chest. "What are they waiting for?"

"I don't know." Derek looked at me. Erica's brows tightened together in a flash, and were gone in the same time they joined. "But they're planning something, and you _especially _know that's not our only problem. Whatever that thing is that killed Isaac's father, I think it killed someone else last night." Boyd looked down. "Until I find out what it is, you all need to know everything that I know." He paused on his way to the cart, looking over his shoulder, "As fast as I can teach you." Then he slid between the doors of the derelict train and left us there.

Time skated by. Lots of it, before, "Let's get up." Boyd helped Isaac to his feet, who then helped me as Boyd helped Erica. I tugged on my waistband, pulling out Patch's paintball gun. For this exercise, it was better than Jules's gun, and Lionel still had my Smith & Wesson. "Wanna try it my way?"

They both eyed the massive gun, warily. I wanted to cock it for dramatic flare, but it was a paintball gun and didn't have a hammer to cock. "We're gonna practice dodging bullets."

* * *

I didn't wait for Derek's Camaro to pull up in the driveway outside the farmhouse. Just the thought of being in a concealed space with Derek, and our Betas made me queasy. It was all too messy and complicated to consider what was going on with Derek. Was stress getting to him? I stole my mom's car, since she had a day off, and drove to school by myself. Parking next to the bike rake, I slid out of the car and eyed the text from Allison.

In between periods, she said, she wanted me to come outside to the blue tables outside the high school. The blue tables were always occupied by students studying, usually solo. Allison was already there, a text book splayed out before her. In passing, I nodded at her once her head tilted up. She nodded back.

After second period, I went to find her. She was still there, on the same table, in that brown leather jacket and red flowing dress. Back turned to me, I hopped down the stone steps and entered the ditch of leaves that surrounded the tables.

Playing off a cool defiant look that seemed more passive than aggressive, I slid into the seat opposite her. Allison looked up and beamed. Instantly, the regret I had been feeling over the past few weeks, but pushed down, came rushing to the surface to choke me like water going down the wrong pipe.

"You got my text!" She said, pulling her elbows up to the table, folding her hands on her notebook.

The side of my mouth quirked. In one thin blue-lined page, the words Allison+Scott were in a red heart. "Yes, I did. Want to explain it before my Betas come to my rescue?"

Confusion seemed to steal the words out of Allison's mouth. "I-I'm sorry. My? Do you," She gave two nervous blasts of air that constituted as laughs. "Own them?"

"I'm responsible for them being chosen for the Bite, yes. And, not only do they have to answer to Derek as their Alpha, they also have to answer to me."

"As their Alpha?"

"Yes." I fought the burn in my eyes that began to bleed out the grey of my irises.

"That's… interesting." She said, looking up at Stiles, who was running toward us. "Here comes Stiles. He's kinda the go-between guy that delivers messages from me to Scott and vice-versa. He's the only person we can trust, Vee wouldn't even—" Allison cleared her throat, looking up with an apologetic smile, then added in explanation, "Since my parents are completely crazy."

"About you dating a werewolf?"

Allison fought to hide the glare lingering in her eyes. "Yes." The petty side of me wanted to hurt her as much as she did with the mere name of my ex-best friend.

Stiles stopped at our table. "Stiles, thanks for this."

"No problem." He said. Stiles lifted a hand, raised a brow, but remained silent. When Allison looked down and I refused to look into those big doe brown eyes, Stiles exclaimed, "Are you two friends again?"

Instantaneously, I looked up to see Allison's reaction. Her mouth opened, but she had the same idea I did. She looked up to see me staring at her, open-mouthed, just like she did. Sharing a curt laugh at that, Allison shook her head. "We're just…" She began.

"Talking." I finished, shrewdly glancing Stiles from the legs up to his chest. Never meeting those eyes that would make my toes curl and my stomach twist.

"That's cool. Maybe you can deliver her from evil." He joked, barking a laugh with a crooked smile and slapping his hand on the table, shaking the books Allison piled. "Like in the Bible." Stiles continued, voice growing smaller and frailer. "Or convert her from the Dark Side?" Allison screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head so hard her braided hair flicked up from the inside of her jacket.

"Just, Stiles, tell Scott. I'm sorry for the other night." High colour flooded Allison's cheeks. So I looked away from her, to bare her the humiliation she probably already felt. "I'm trying. We'll get through this. I know because I love you. I love you more than my gun-nut family and we're bigger than their petty werewolf hunting. I know we can get through this because I love you, more than them, more than anything that can get between us."

I zoned out while Stiles struggled to memorize what Allison wanted to say to Scott. I thought about a lot of things. Isaac, now that he was a werewolf, dating Vee. Strangely enough, my mind wandered to Jackson and Lydia. They had broken up. And were still broken up. I didn't even know why. Last time I heard, Jackson's body was fighting the Bite Derek gave him.

Maybe Lydia knew something about that, since Jackson would most likely be reluctant to tell me. Other than my Betas, Jackson and Lydia were two people who I could probably still hang out with, without the judgement I was getting from most, lately. Vee and Patch, specifically, because it seemed although we weren't quite there yet, Allison seemed to be trying to patch things up and make sure the water was all under the bridge. Of course, the thought that she was playing me occurred to me, because she saw Erica with Scott. Or because _they_ wanted to know _our _next move. Was it our clique versus theirs, or our pack versus theirs?

Stiles left, snapping back my attention to Allison.

"Have you talked to Lydia lately?" I asked, which seemed to startle Allison as I became animated to life, once again.

"No, not really. Why?"

"It's just that since she was Bitten by Peter, and she went missing for a couple of days, I haven't really talked to her, at all." I said. "Same with Jackson."

"I haven't really talked to Jackson, at all." Allison said, slowly. "Lydia's been a little distant, lately, yeah I agree."

Doing my best Erica impression, I cocked my head to the side, letting mild amusement play over my features, "What made you think that's what I was going to ask?"

Allison stammered, clearly seeing the resemblance. She didn't know how to deal with it.

I laughed. "Relax. I was actually going to ask about your parents."

"My parents?" Allison looked really uncomfortable now, pen in her hands, fingers plucking apart the edges of her notebook. She didn't look down, although she fidgeted. She looked right at me, as she said, "What about that?"

Stiles came and interrupted us, again.

Allison, hiding a smirk with her hand playing with her hair, said, "I think you mean—"

"No, I mean bestiary! And the two of you, I don't wanna know what's going on in your heads." He made a face like he was about to be sick, then glanced over at me. I looked down at a pile of leaves topping my boots. I kicked them off.

"Okay, um," To avoid getting caught again, I didn't look up from my boots, I just listened. "Can you describe this thing?"

"Er, it's probably like a book. Old. Worn."

"Like… bound in leather?"

"Yeah!"

"I've seen my grandfather with a book like that. In his jacket." Allison said, sending Stiles scuttling away to tell Scott.

"Sorry about that." She said. I raised my head to look at her. Allison frowned, not knowing how to place her next words. "About Stiles and you…"

Narrowing me eyes, I asked, "Stiles and I?" She nodded. "Allie, there is no 'Stiles and I'. There's Stiles. And then there's me."

"Right." She said. "But, I know you two went out—"

"Once or twice." I said, testily, flipping it off with a casual flick of my wrist. "It meant. Nothing." Those words were stone hard, with no room for arguing.

"I'm the one who told Lydia to go with Stiles to the Formal." Allison said, reaching over to place her hand on mine. Recoiling, I placed my hand in my lap. It's not that I was losing my humanity and physical need for human contact. Not at all. I just didn't want her to touch my skin and see how cold I was, just talking about it. How angry tremors would spin through my body. "I-I'm sorry." She deadpanned.

A long sigh felt good coming out. "Allison. Really." I reached over for her hand. It was in her lap so I tugged on her sleeve, lip of the table digging into my barely-covered stomach. "It's fine." I turned over her hand in mine, crushing my fingers around it.

Stiles shattered the moment.

He slammed his hand on the table, slightly bent over, gasping. Allison leaned away, alarmed. My hands were in my lap lightning-fast, in record time. "Where—does he—keep it?"

"I don't know. Last time I saw it… it just fell out of his pocket." Allison said. "He keeps it on him, so he would probably bring it to school, in his office." Sounded like she was shooting in the dark, but I wasn't going to question her. I knew nothing about this, and I felt like I was on the outside looking in.

Stiles rushed off, without so much as looking my way this time.

"Bestiary." I mumbled.

"What? Oh, yeah. It might tell us what that lizard thing is. Scott's boss said that my parents have to have this book that has all the things they've hunted before. Chances are, if they've ever seen whatever this thing is before, it's recorded in there." Allison explained.

"What if they haven't?"

"Maybe their ancestors did. My ancestors. It's the only lead we've got, so it's worth a try." Allison reasoned. "We've got to do something, find its weakness. If an Argent did kill it, it'll be in this bestiary."

"No, that's not why… it just sounds familiar. Like I've heard that word before. Or read it somewhere." There was a strange familiar tingle to it, and I wasn't mistaking it for bestiality, like Scott and Allison, which I have to admit, freaked me out a little.

"Maybe you have. Stiles knew about it, and I didn't." Allison said.

"Right." I said. I didn't get the chance to piece together how I knew the word, Allison wasn't finished talking which didn't give me the silence I needed to figure it out.

"That's part of the reason I asked you to come." She said. "Yesterday, when you said all that stuff about me and you and Kate." A shudder ran through her, making me squirm.

Stiles came running back, an asthma pump in his hand. He stopped in front of us, gulped it down and said, in one rush of air, "You know drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for years."

"My parents check every call, email, and text message I send," Allison said, more than a little frustrated. Although for what, it was hard to figure out. Whether she had explained this to Stiles before, was angry at her parents for invading her privacy like that, or at Stiles for interrupting moments between Allison and I, I couldn't tell. Was she risking it, sending that text to me? No. Neither Chris nor Gerard knew my involvement with Derek. Otherwise they would have said or done something. "Trust me, they'd find it." Allison finished, touchily. I looked up at Stiles.

"Alright. Can you get the book?"

"Not without his keys." Allison said.

"If you can convince him to come to the lacrosse game tonight, and manage to get his keys and give them to me, I can go through his office." Stiles said, sounding too eager for doing something so rash. It sent a pang straight to my heart, thinking about the only other person I knew who would be as eager as Stiles to commit a felony.

Did this even count as a felony?

"I'll try." Allison said. Stiles nodded, spinning on his heel to leave. He turned back, dropped to his knees in front of me and gripped my hands.

"Nora, I have to say something." Stiles rushed out, pump in his pocket causing a bulge others might mistake for something else. "And I need to get it off my chest right now, or I'll never say it." He stood up, ran a hand down his face and through his hair, blew out sighs and looked at Allison, desperately. "A little help here."

Allison raised her hands, eyes wide.

"Nora, you're our friend." Stiles said. "Our very, very good friend. I don't want to lose you over Derek. I don't want to lose you. Period."

"Me neither." Allison chipped in.

"Whatever's going on with you and Derek," Stiles said, looking at Allison again who nodded, "We can get over it. Get used to it. Scott thinks so too, albeit hesitantly." Allison stepped on his toe. Stiles fought hard to disguise the pain. Laughter rose in my head, of all places. "Please don't act like we're not friends. Because we are. Even if you don't want us to be. We've always been friends. And we'll never stop being friends, even if you go off and join Derek's pack as his mate—I mean female Alpha and I'm using the word _friends _too much." He pumped the asthma inhaler and took a sharper breathe. "We won't stop, ever. Nothing can change the way I feel about you." Stiles said. "We. Not I. Nothing can change the way we feel about you." He corrected, eyes shut. He sighed again, and dropped to his knees to plant a sweet, teasing kiss to my cheek. Stiles left, shaking his head and hitching his backup further up his hunched shoulders.

Allison waited a long time to ask, "Are you wearing water-proof mascara?"

I gave her a look that said_ don't you dare mention my makeup when I look like I'm about to cry_. She got the message perfectly, and just handed me a tissue.

"He's right, you know." Allison said. "All of us feel that way. I don't want Derek to come between our friendship like Kate did. Even though you're with him, it doesn't have to affect _us_. Not like Kate. Because that's what it was, before she got between us. It was a friendship." She paused, not quite struggling to find words, like Stiles, but struggling to make what she was saying believable. She didn't even need to try, I was hooked and sold. "I think you should be in loop because, Nora. You're our friend first. And Derek's girlfriend second."

I couldn't even process those two heart-felt speeches at once. Scott was yet to deliver his, though, a dark-humoured me chuckled. "You've given me a lot to think about, and I just really need… to go, t-thank you and everything and yes and…" I hated the way my chin shook.

Allison rose with me. "Wait! Are you… Are you going to help us with the plan tonight?"

"You mean am I going to help you and not tell Derek?" I asked. "Or the Betas." My voice caught and I had to say _the_ instead of _our_.

"Nora, no. Are you with us on the plan?"

My answer made her sit down and smirk.

"Yes."

* * *

Boyd sat, in the stands of the lacrosse field, sandwiched between Erica and me. Lacrosse player number 9 flew through the land, landing on his back. The whistle blew, after a chorus of _ohs! _sounded from the other players. Eddie Abomowitz sneered, the famous Abomination from the Beavers team. It was semi-finals and the Cyclones, BHHS's very own, were getting their butts handed to them.

"Come one!" Coach boomed. "Is that thing even a teenager? I want to see a birth certificate!"

Erica laughed at that, and Boyd followed suit. I had noticed, during school, how cosy the two of them had gotten. Not like Erica and Isaac, but they seemed to be… different around each other. She wasn't so much the airhead she played and he wasn't the strong-and-silent type he liked to think he was. Erica found excuses to press up against him, touch him. And in turn, Boyd would try really hard to correspond to her body language and make her laugh, agree with her, just please her in general. It was sweet. It also made my current communication issues with Derek scream.

Coach sat down next to Stiles and they puffed white air as they talked. Boyd was staring. "Can you hear them?" I asked, lighting up his whole face. Beaming, he said:

"Yeah. Perfectly."

Erica stroked his arm. "That's great!" She showed all her straight, white teeth and he made googly eyes at her.

I turned away, rolling my eyes humorously. Technically, if any Betas in a pack were supposed to get together, they'd have to consult with the Alpha(s). The female Alpha had more say than the male to do with coupling and mating, as she would know which wolf would be better for which wolf. Personally, I thought Erica and Boyd were perfect for each other. It just made Isaac the third wheel, and I did _not_ want that happening. Isaac accepted the Bite for power, independence from the man who tortured him and a new family. His new family didn't need to be making him feel left out now.

I thought about Vee and him together, again, and searched for her in the stands. We chose this seating, specifically, to be away from Allison and her grandfather who chose the stands just above where Stiles was sat on the bench. When I couldn't find Vee, or Patch, I looked for Isaac on the field. He was number 14.

Instead I found 37, Danny? No he was in goal, it was Jackson, walking up to 11, Scott, to grip his arm. "Boyd." I whispered. "Tell me what they're saying." I pointed at the two. Boyd closed his eyes, struggling to concentrate on that one noise.

"I hear… Jackson? Talking to Scott. He wants Scott to tackle the big dude. Scott can't because… he'll be a cheater? But Jackson doesn't think that freak of nature is fair. Still, though. Scott can't." Boyd opened his eyes, and continued his sentence with a debouched tone, "Because of Allison's grandfather."

Erica trapped his hand between her knees. "Hey, don't worry. They won't try anything." She reassured. "Not here, in public."

Boyd acted big, tough. "I'm not worried."

I ignored their sweet-talk. On cue, Allison and Gerard got up. He shucked off his jacket to give to her. I nodded at Stiles. Allison was searching his pockets—

Eddie knocked two players I didn't recognise into the ground.

"Where's Isaac?" Erica asked, craning her neck to look for him, as did Boyd. I couldn't find him, either. "Playing defence?"

"Probably laying low." I said. Gesturing to Gerard, "Doesn't want to drag attention. Like Scott."

The two of them agreed silently. Stiles left his bench to pass the stand Allison was in the end of. She held out her hand for him to get the keys.

One of the players was being rolled away cried out, "I can't feel my legs!" between groans of pure anguish.

Matt stopped beside Melissa McCall, Scott's mom, camera around his neck. What could they possibly be talking about?

Danny was holding an icepack to his head, Coach was coaxing him into getting back on the field. Persuading him to say two instead of four fingers he was holding up, Coach pushed Danny out into the field. I looked for Patch. If he had been here he would have such a worried look. But he wasn't. And neither was Vee, which was… mildly unsettling. Where they up to something?

Stiles wasn't there when Coach was still short one player. He started skimming the crowd, finger landing on Boyd. "You? You! You play lacrosse?"

Boyd shared one look with Erica, and began to get up. Erica grabbed his leathered arm.

"Uh-uh. Derek won't like this." She warned.

"Yeah. But I will." Boyd shot back. "And so might Nora." Their heads turned for me to settle the argument.

"I don't mind." I said, making Erica frown and Boyd grin. "If anything goes wrong I'll intervene. I'll take you out of there." I winked. "Go for it."

Erica moaned, but stopped when Boyd stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it at her. Boyd stood there, in his baby blue T-shirt, making Coach hop up and down, exclaiming in joy, like a kid with a new toy.

"Oooh, ho, ho, ho! We got ourselves a player!" Coach screamed. Boyd jumped down the stands to throw some lacrosse gear on. Erica turned to me.

"Do you really trust him that much?" She asked.

"No." I said. "But what's the harm? So what if Derek won't like it. He's not the only Alpha." I damn near growled, very low in my throat, making one of Erica's fine waxy brows lift. "I feel like, even though he asked me to be his female Alpha, he doesn't think of me that way. Like he still thinks of me as just his girlfriend, when really we haven't even established that."

"You haven't?"

"No."

Erica frowned. "Wasn't him asking you to be his Alpha like him asking you to be his. _His_. Girlfriend?"

Just like Erica, I expected me to know the answer like I had been lately. The spontaneous answers to all the questions about my new role as female Alpha. None came, and Erica sensed that. She turned to watch Boyd stroll into the field, lugging a stick after him.

Erica sighed, deeply. "I have to go." She said. I arched my brows. "Derek's calling for me." Then, as if he was whispering in her ear, she said, "Us. He wants us to go to the high school. Because of Stiles. And bring him to Derek in the swimming pools. C'mon." She grabbed my hand and rose, but I didn't. She tugged.

"Erica, I'm not going." I said, sounding firm. "Derek and I need to talk and that's not gonna happen in front of you and Stiles. So until we sort some stuff out, I'm not answering to Derek's 'calls'."

"Suit yourself." Erica said. "If Derek asks, I'll say your protesting against him until you and him have The Talk."

"The Talk?"

She waggled her brows.

I gasped, and tried to grab her, but she was already jumping down the stands, cavorting the same way Stiles left. Allison looked up at me, meaningfully, then down at her phone. I didn't believe Derek would hurt Stiles, or have Erica hurt Stiles. He wanted information from him. Allison told me Stiles saw the lizard thing kill the mechanic, and that he was trapped by the thing's paralytic toxin. Derek just wanted to know about it, not having seen it himself.

On the field, the calm before the storm was hitting. It was a strange, sort of silent breath-holding moment as Eddie charged at Boyd. I felt Boyd's exhilarating heart rate, the race and touch of forbidden that came with knowing his Alpha wouldn't be happy about this. Throwing caution to the wind, Boyd slammed his chest into Eddie.

Who flew backwards.

I didn't have time to assess Gerard's expression, or cheer with the crowd, or look at Isaac who was suddenly pleadingly looking up at me on the field. Vee, blonde hair glossy and green eyes sparkling, took a seat on my right and Patch, hair inky and black eyes unreadable, took a seat at my left, boxing me in.

"The bigger they are," Coach said, triumphantly, loud enough to be heard over the erupting noise, "The bigger. They. Are."

I unexpectedly realized just how much I had missed them both, and sighed a breath of relief at having them close enough to touch. Then, the situation turned sticky as reality kicked in and I knew I should have shouted for my Betas, for Isaac or Boyd or both, but I didn't, and I let them corner me.

"Nora." Vee said, diplomatically, crossing her legs.

"Vee." I said, with a smirk gracing my lips.

"Nora." Patch said, equally formal, hooking one leg under himself.

"Patch." I said, turning my head to look at him.

"We want to talk." Vee said.

"About you," Patch put in.

"And Derek." Vee added.

"And Derek." Patch agreed, nodding.

The whole team had joined in one circle, bouncing and jumping and screaming. Isaac was missing in action, again. Scott was staring at Boyd, who removed his helmet, and Jackson ran to Scott's side, staring also. I didn't see what they were staring at, until Boyd raised his fist and made glowsticks out of his yellow eyes.

All my initial reactions of alarm I couldn't do. There was no fire alarm to pull, no sprinklers I could activate and no humanly possible thing I could say to convince Coach to take Boyd off the team.

Home and Guest were tied 9-9. Coach would let hell freeze over, or Boyd's head get hit by a wolfsbane bullet, before pulling him off the team. I wasn't about to let anything happen to him.

"You've been acting really unlike you lately." Patch was saying, low enough so that nobody could overhear and close enough that the hair at the back of my neck had been raised, standing so close to an unfamiliar fox lycanthrope.

"Hanging out with Derek and Erica." Vee put in, not even looking at me but with wide green eyes at my boots.

"Not even paying attention to anything other than…" Patch sighed. "Your pack."

"Erica." Vee said, with emphasis. "Boyd and Derek and Isaac."

"Your eyes glowed red, Nora." Patch said. "Does that mean you're a werewolf? Did you take the Bite, cause I don't smell it on you."

"Is it because of _Erica_?" Vee said, making Patch and I, both, look at her quizzically. "You seem to be spending so much time with her, lately, even dressing like _Erica_."

"Did Derek divide his power between you two? Is that what happened?" Patch asked.

"I don't even know what that means." I said, craning to look at Scott grab Boyd and try to get him off the field.

"So she can talk." Vee remarked. "I thought _Erica_ got her tongue."

"Get over the jealousy, Vee." Patch said. "That's not gonna snap her out of this!"

"She's hanging out with another big-boobed blonde werewolf and I'm just supposed to be okay with that?" She shook her head. "_No! _She is not replacing me with _Erica_."

Boyd growled, audibly, and rushed forward with his longstick. Scott snatched the ball up, with his shorter stick, and darted past Boyd, leaving him dumb-struck, to throw the ball into the goal. Coach got on his knees, praising Jesus, when someone cracked into Scott, rotating his leg off at a grotesque, uneven angle with a sharp bone-splintering snap.

Allison was by his side first, then his mom rushed forward and the team was moving, as one entity, to get to him. He tried to get the attention off Boyd and he gets a broken leg? Talk about sore losers, the Beavers. I slid off my seat, the entirety of the stands empty except for me, Patch and Vee. I got down to the field, only to find Boyd and Isaac, but a sharp blow to the side of my neck had blackness swirling around my eyes.

Patch.

Knocking me out.

By stabbing me at the neck.

Again!?

Even as I slipped away from consciousness, anger boiled inside me as my head lolled off his chest. Patch ran, carrying me bridal style, with Vee talking, not far behind. My eyes closed and the anger seeped out of me, for the time being. Erica. Derek. Boyd. Isaac. One of them would find me. I hoped.

* * *

I awoke later so far deep in the Preserve I didn't recognize any of the trees that framed my vision. Vee was hunched over me, shaking her hand. My cheek stung.

"Finally." She said. "How long does it usually take for someone to wake up after knocking them out like that, Patch?"

"Half an hour." Patch said, arms crossed over his chest.

They weren't the only ones there. Leveque and Ulrich sat on a rock to my left, dressed as black as night. Though they tried to hide it with their leather and vest clothing, the bulges in their jackets and pants told me they were armed. They were expecting more than me, ready to fight if an Alpha came, or if my Betas came to my rescue.

Vee's hand closed around my mouth as soon as I opened it, feeling all the tiny cracks in my lips split open, to scream. I licked her palm, twisting her arm behind her back in a ruthlessly fast yanking grip. Knee bridged on the base of her spine, I pushed her into the leaves I lay in, clumsily, and turned to run in the opposite direction.

Patch caught my shoulders and pushed me. Vee circled her arms around me, Leveque and Ulrich up and off the rock to stand close by.

"Let go!" I screamed. "I'll call them." I warned, "All of them."

Vee and Patch looked at each other.

"What is this?" I demanded, shaking off Vee's arms violently. Patch reached out a hand to steady me, but I slapped it so hard the back of my hand throbbed. "Why are they here?" I jerked my chin to where Leveque and Ulrich stood. "Why did you kidnapped me into the woods?"

"To talk." Patch raised his hands, his smile barely-there.

"There was no way we could with Isaac and Boyd around." Vee said. "So when Erica left and Boyd went out on the field…" She trailed off, leaving me to complete the blanks on what they did. Waiting for something big to happen, Scott's leg breaking and everyone rushing out to help him, to knock me out and abduct me.

"You can't keep me here." I said. "You can't. You can't and you won't." I turned, trying for a different tactic. "Vee. If you were ever my friend, if you ever respected me, trust that I know what I'm doing now and let me go—"

"Nora, stop this!" Ulrich cried, startling everyone but Leveque. "Listen to your friends."

"What is this?" I asked, voice barely heard in the closed-off darkness. "Patch? What is this?" Funny how they had the courage to take me off to a disclosed place, but they didn't know how to break it to me that they were holding a convention. I burst out laughing.

"Nora, you gave us no choice. You've gone mental." Patch said, voice strong and crackling.

"Batshit crazy, actually." Vee said.

Leveque's eyes spoke more than his words. He was disappointed in me and ashamed he had created me. Ulrich was a little more vocal than Leveque.

"Your training was supposed to begin once Allison's did." He said. "Allison's training already began. The night we lost…" Ulrich fisted the back of his hand into his mouth and bit down. Hard. Obviously he had been friends with the dead hunter.

"I'm not a hunter." I said.

"So what are you, Nora?" Leveque asked, breaking out of the shadows that warped around him. "A wolf? No. A wolf's mate?"

"No." I said, at the same time Vee said, "Yes." We looked at each other.

"Her eyes glowed red." Patch mumbled, making Leveque's head snap up and his eyes widened. "We think it means Derek's sharing his power with her, somehow. Because she hasn't taken the Bite."

"Yet." Vee said.

"This is ridiculous." I made my way out to the clearing, walking instead of running to show how stupid I thought this intervention was. Patch was there to block my way, and Vee stood at me back like a shadow. "Get out of the way, Patch."

"No." Patch said.

"_Move!_"

"_No._"

"What is this?" I repeated, for what felt like the thousandth time. "An intervention? Hosted between a werewolf," I threw a hand up at Vee, behind me, "A werefox," I bobbed my head at Patch, "And two hunters." I met them square in the eye. "What right do you guys have to put in a say on what I can and can't do."

"We're all worried about you." Ulrich said, with a sigh.

"And it's because we're worried about you that we're all here, now." Vee added.

I rolled my eyes.

"No." Leveque said, pushing his way out of the clearing again, to step up to where Vee was. "This isn't going to get through to her. Sorry kid," He said, to Vee, "This will take more drastic measures."

"Are you going to torture me like you did Derek?"

Leveque remained expressionless, bored even. He had a whole life time to be able to control that. It was a low blow, but I might as well have said nothing. Leveque still rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as he stared. Vee was beginning to get uneasy. Her expression showed that much.

"You think you're all big and strong now that you have a pack. You think you're that much of a badass motherfu—"

"Leveque!" Ulrich called out, clamping a hand on his shoulder. "Clam, down."

Leveque shrugged it off, a creased hand print on his leather jacket. "No!" Leveque squawked at me with an intensity that I had to look away, at Vee, at Patch, standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to do, who to help or who to trust. "If she thinks she's such a _bad girl_ now, why doesn't she try to take us?"

"Finally," I said, "Something I can do."

Leveque charged, despite Vee and Patch's loud protests. Something blocky and dark was already in his hand. I doubted it was a gun, which meant it was a Taser. Set to stun. He lifted his arm, aiming at my stomach.

"Nora!" Vee squealed. "Hit the deck."

I dropped to the floor as his finger squeezed the trigger. The buds flew over my head, sparking. My hands went over to lace at the top of my head, brushing away the dirt and muddied leaves stuck to my hair. Leveque tried to pull the wire back. I stepped on it.

He came at me again, and I rose. Leveque was brawny, which meant I couldn't over-power him. He also had brains to go with his brawn. The only thing I could do was use his strength against him. Hand struck out, I rolled his shoulder forward so the momentum caused him to stumble and drop the Taser. He landed on his side, swearing colourfully.

I ran ahead. Nobody else would hurt me, I kept saying to myself, repeating it over and over like a mantra.

Ulrich's frame, hands held high over his hand, stepped into my path. I raised my knee into his groin without thinking. He doubled over and I caught his chin with my elbow, pushing him over with the Taser clipped on his belt now in my hand.

Leveque was gone.

With a battle cry ripping through the air, Patch was running toward me, and Vee was pointing in terror behind me. The wind rustled the leaves and I ducked. Leveque's fist swung, hitting nothing. Struggling to get a grip on the Taser, it slipped out of my grasp, sweat and muck covering it.

Leveque towered over me, primal fear and survivor's instinct shaking my body. My brain had flooded my body with high doses of adrenaline. Hand thrown out, reaching for something, _anything_, I rolled onto my stomach and began to crawl.

He fisted his hand into my head, yanked backwards until I was pressed against him, and grovelled. I screamed, high and breathy, until Leveque shook me and I stopped. Vee stood three feat in front of us, hands over her mouth, powerlessly watching.

Bark crumpled in my hand. Wrapping my fingers around it, I waved it behind me. The stick poked Leveque's temple. He groaned, dropped me, and I rose.

Holding it like a bat, like it was comfortable, I waited until he crept closer to really and truly _swing_ with everything I had. The stick cracked, a massive sound blasting packs of birds off their nestled trees, vibrating in my hands, splintered. Leveque dropped more than fell to the floor. The stick struck his back, as he turned to avoid a lashing to the face.

Rolling over to spit to the side, Leveque looked up at me, propped on his elbows. "Kid, listen."

I thrust out my leg to slash the tip of my boot across his face. Leveque dropped back, playing dead, with a line of blood trickling down his nose. Tossing the stick aside, I flapped open his jacket, reaching into the insides of his pockets. Ulrich's Taser was beside his hand. I jerked it aside, noting where it was, before he could grab it. "Stay still." I warned, pressing my elbow across his windpipe.

I took a 9mm and a clip from his holster, as well as a knuckle duster and a slim knife that had a clip to hold in the inside of your boot. When he groaned, reaching up I pressed down with my boot on his chest until he lay still, flat, with an _umph! _I grabbed the Taser before leaving Leveque there.

Ulrich was cupping his sex, starting to get up. Patch watched me slip on the metal knuckles approaching him, with a wary eye. "Nora." He said, as in _Nora if you use that on him I'll have to stop you and we'll fight._

"I'm sorry." Ulrich whispered, when I had backed him up against a tree.

I fell into the trap. "For what?" I asked.

"For this." He knocked the 9mm out of my hand, sending it scattered in the leaves where Patch was scrawling to find it. Ulrich grabbed my non-knuckle-duster hand, the one with his Taser, and tried to clip on a pair of handcuffs to it. His mistake.

My body reacted before my mind did. I didn't want to waste the Taser on him, never having been taught how to reload the electric buds once they leave. So I clipped him on the jaw with my other hand, the one with the metallic knuckles. I didn't hear a crunch, but it was already swollen as he fell slumped against the tree.

"I'm sorry, too." I said, and heard the honesty in my own voice. I planted a kiss to his other cheek and took the can of wolfsbane pepper spray out of his waistband. Not to sound egotistical, but I always knew how Ulrich felt about me. Perhaps if I had actually paid attention to him, and not Matt at the Winter Formal, none of this would be happening and I wouldn't be saying goodbye to two hunting friends.

Patch was holding the gun in his hands when he opened his mouth to speak. I couldn't let him say anything, I just couldn't. So I raised the pepper spray up.

Vee and him spun around when a branch popped behind them.

Patch was aiming the gun at Isaac, who looked terrified and was still in his lacrosse uniform. "Woah, man, easy, I'm just here for Nora, she called me."

Patch turned around and I pressed down on the pepper spray, exploding purple-tinted liquid across his face. Scorch marks sizzled across his husky skin, the mace running out as quickly as the last time I used one on Derek. Patch was floored onto his knees. I could see Vee's desire to go next to him, to take away the hands he was cupping to his face as if he could hold the pain away from his burning, blood-shot eyes.

But she didn't move. She stood in my path and I picked up the gun.

"Are you gonna shoot me?" Vee asked. There was a Taser in my left hand, a gun in my right, a slim knife in my boot, I had used Leveque's knuckle-duster on Ulrich and Ulrich's wolfsbane pepper spray on Patch. But it never occurred to me, ever in my right mind, to shoot Vee.

"No."

"Then?"

"I'm just asking you to move."

"Vee," Isaac began. Vee raised a hand to stop him.

She stepped out of my way, sweeping her arms ahead of her. In the bitterest tone I had ever heard, she said, "Your highness."

I moved to stand next to Isaac, clipping the Taser to my belt with the little buckle it had on it. We began to jog away, but not before Vee could say, sweetly, "Tell Derek I said hi."

"So how did you hear us, out in the woods so far from the lacrosse field?" I asked Isaac, desperately trying to cling to the reality where none of that just happened. He took me up on my offer to change the subject entirely and answered me. I placed the gun in my waistband.

"I heard you howl." Isaac said, solely, leaving me open-mouthed. When Leveque yanked on my hair, I didn't just scream. I howled. So I really was becoming a wolf.

Isaac was gaining speed, but slowed down to keep me up next to him. He said, "How'd you learn to kick ass like that? Derek?"

"How much did you see?" I asked, feeling the weight of running on my muscles after the adrenaline left my system. "All of it?"

"No." Isaac said, not even breathless. "Just after you took the Taser off that guy, from about then."

"So why did you only come out after Vee." I was really going to have to start running laps, because I sounded so preposterous and it was just embarrassing. Isaac didn't really expect me to keep up but I felt like if we were faced with an enemy he couldn't protect me from, he'd rather leave me behind, which I couldn't blame him for. But I also didn't want that to happen. Jogging, I'd definitely have to start jogging.

Isaac was speechless for a long time. Then he gave me a smitten look.

"Oh. _Oh_. _Vee_." I just answered my own question. He only came out because he didn't want me to hurt Vee. I would never hurt her. Ever.

Just when I was about to ask Isaac to start jogging with me regularly—because who else could I ask? Derek? Stiles? Chris?—the school loomed into view.

"Oh, Nora, I smell Derek. And Erica and Stiles." Isaac said. They were still here? Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he stammered, "And something… else."

Through the branches clawing out to scrape us, I could see a solitary figure still on the field.

"That's Boyd." Isaac said, wiping his nose. "I thought it would be best if I went and not him because he's still really new."

"It's fine." I said, and starting to slow. Boyd stopped chucking lacrosse balls into the goal and dropped his longstick. He started toward us. My fist curled.

He opened his mouth.

I lashed out to catch him square on the jaw.

Boyd went down, a shocked look on his face, holding his face. He didn't look at me, he looked to Isaac for help. Grabbing a fistful of his collar, I pulled him toward me. My shirt rucked up and Isaac stole a breath. I knew he saw my hand inch toward my gun, but the safety was off and I was leaving it off.

Boyd whimpered when he saw it. "Don't you ever, ever, do something so stupid again! Do you hear me? Look at me, Boyd?" Defiantly, Boyd looked at me with hate in his dark eyes. "You know I'm right about this, Boyd. So cut the look out. If Isaac hadn't been so worried about you on the field, he would have heard or saw Vee and Patch take me earlier. If you hadn't been so _stupid _tonight, with your eyes glowing, refusing to leave the field, Scott wouldn't have injured himself."

"He's fine." Boyd protested, voice shaky.

I shook him. "That's not the point, Boyd. What you did was reckless and silly. I should have listened to Erica, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because you're new. I know you joined the pack for friends, and we all _are _your friends. But when you do something to hurt another one of my friends, someone needs to be punished." There was a disgusting tone to my voice, a motherly edge that was too violent to call caring, but definitely boarded on a kind, worried note. "Ask Isaac, I just took down two hunters and a were—" I didn't say werefox because neither of them knew about Patch, and I figured it best that way for now. "I'm in no mood. I got taken today because of you. Think about how you put his female Alpha's life at risk when you tell Derek about this tomorrow morning."

Isaac said, "C'mon Nora, you're fine. Do you really think your friends would have let those hunters hurt you?"

Tears swam up to the lids of my eyes, and Boyd saw. I kept my eyes wide for the tears not to roll out. In a deathly quiet voice, I said, "They did. My _friends_ let the hunters hurt me. I fended for myself, while they watched."

Boyd put a hand on my shoulder and I closed the distance between us for a wet, awkward hug. "I'm sorry." He mouthed at the top of my head and I nodded, wiping with my sleeve the wetspots of my tears on his blue shirt. Boyd got up, and helped me rock up to my feet with both hands outstretched.

"I gotta go check up on a thing." I said, lamely, "Can you give Boyd a ride?"

"Sure." Isaac said. "But what about you?"

"I brought my own car, I have to drive it back." I said. They both nodded, and left for the locker rooms. Holding the gun double-handed, I walked steadily up the stairs and into the first floor, headed straight for the swimming pools. Derek, Stiles, Erica and something else. That something else had to be the lizard. What if they were all paralyzed? I knew they weren't dead, Isaac was new but he would have smelled the blood—that's something every lycanthrope can always easily sense, without practice.

Making sure the new clip was in the 9mm and the safety was off, I prepared myself mentally for what I was about to see. Lizard thing. With claws that could paralyze you. I had to stay far away from it. Out of range but close enough to shoot. A head-shot could kill a lycanthrope, right? Why not a lizard thing, too?

I heard a growl and ran through the halls of the school until I landed in the entrance to the swimming pools, gun raised and ready to blaze. Derek and Stiles, drenched through their clothes, were just outside the swimming pools, catching their breaths. I scanned the rest of the room and saw Scott, wolfed-out, faced with _it_.

The thing's tail curled around Scott's ankle and thrust him back to a mirror, which shattered, hailing shards around him as he fell backwards.

"Holy crap." I muttered. Derek and Stiles looked up at me. I shook the dread walking down my spine, and stepped closer to the thing with my gun ready. It looked at me, and hissed. It was reptilian, the size of an average human. Its scales, which were pointed and squared-off, covered its whole body. The tail whooshed behind it, thumping menacingly. One hand crept closer, long claws clicking against the floor. I took aim at its hand, to scare it off. Those slitted, yellow eyes flashed up at me, daring me to shoot. I didn't. There was something about the way it looked, the hate behind those eyes, that seemed to give me a feeling of déjà vu.

Glass crackled and the lizard swished around, tail slashing at the air like a knife.

Scott growled, crouched over and ready, with a shard of sharp glass in his hand. I didn't question it. The thing moved closer, translucent claws extensive and clicking toward him. There was an intensity in Scott's yellow eyes I had never seen before, not only did he want the thing to come to him, he was ready to kill it.

Hissing, the lizard cocked its head to the side. I rounded past Derek and Stiles to get a better vantage point. It was reflected in the sharp Scott held, letting me see it blink dazedly. The thing blinked like a lizard, closing its eyes landscape, horizontal. More than that, it seemed mystified by its reflection, like it was… admiring the view?

Scott looked to the glass, stupidly. The thing could have lunged at him. Then again, I was stupid for not shooting it. Scott looked at the thing and it hissed again, throwing itself at Scott—not at him, _past _him. The glass flashed, and then the thing was scaling the wall behind Scott to grab the railings above him. It climbed up and up and up, scuttling on the ceiling and climbing it to shatter through the glass at the very top of the school, where it rained down into the pool.

Scott and I looked up, then at Stiles, who was on his heels, wet to the bone, and at Derek, who was gripping the side landing, breathing heavily with his hair flat and plastered to his head. Scott dropped the glass to hang his head between his knees.

* * *

USB inserted into the laptop, Stiles uploaded the bestiary. A PDF file popped up, in book form. The strange black writing was foreign, with headings like EBCOBALDUS and DE NATURIS ANIMALIU. Stiles turned the page, showing the same headings with different writing. Scott pushed him aside, flipping to another page with the same headings but more of that unfamiliar text.

"Is that even a language?" Stiles asked.

"How are we supposed to figure out what this _thing _is?" Scott whined.

I studied the text closer, trying to associate the unfamiliar words with a language, pin it to some sort of array to decode it and read it, maybe even translate it.

"It's called a kanima." Derek said, strolling up to us, dry, with Erica at his side. She had been on the swimming pool floor, eyes open, a slash at the back of her neck. It was healed now, and she was fine. We nodded at each other.

"You knew the whole time?" Stiles huffed.

"No." Derek said. "Only when it was confused by its own reflection." Erica was looking at him, uncertain. She had missed the whole thing, and needed a debriefing.

"It doesn't know what it is." Scott remarked.

"Or who." Added Derek.

"What else do you know?" Stiles asked, more than a little annoyed.

"Just stories," He answered, then looked at Scott, shaking his head, "Rumours."

"But it's like us?"

"A shapeshifter, yes, but it's… it's not right." Derek tried to explain. "It's like a…"

"An abomination." Stiles finished, looking up through his eyelashes.

Derek stared, then nodded. Erica looked like she was going to be nauseous. He turned to leave, eyeing me, but I shook my head. Erica grabbed his arm to pull him with her.

"Derek!" Scott said, turning him back to us. "We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."

"You trust them?" It wasn't a question.

Scott spoke slowly, with intent, "Nobody trusts anyone. That's the problem! While we're here, arguing, about who's on what side," Stiles looked at me. "There's something scarier, stronger and faster than any of us and it's killing people!" Scott was worked up, you could see it in the hard line of his shoulders, the way his jaw was set, his eyes glaring. "And we still don't even know anything about it!" He looked at the laptop, still with his voice raised.

Derek glared, "I know one thing," He turned, "When I find it. I'm gonna _kill it_."

* * *

Vee or Patch or someone took my car keys. I saw it in the driveway and breathed out a sigh, without needing to. I knew that I hadn't been robbed. Stiles smiled.

"Looks like they left your mom's car in one piece." He waved. "Victory."

I laughed, half-heartedly. "Thanks for the ride, Stiles."

"Wait." He grabbed my arm before I could open the door of his Jeep. "I have something for you." He reached into the back seat, where a red hoodie was. "Here." Stiles said, dropping it into my lap. "As promised." I looked at the freckles under his eyes, on both sides of his nose.

My next laugh wasn't half-hearted, or strained. It was genuine, and felt good. "Thank you." I said. "A red hoodie today, a plaid shirt tomorrow," I joked.

Stiles, laughing, said, "Why do you even want to wear my clothes?"

I waited a long time before answering, working Erica's words through my head. "It would drive Derek crazy."

A grin broke his face. "I'm all for aggravating Derek, especially afer holding him up for so long in that swimming pool." He said, "Plaid tomorrow." He nodded.

In the house, I stripped off my jacket and my boots. I placed the knife under a biology text book and kept the gun and clip in the only drawer on my desk that could lock. Brushing off some last-minute homework, a pile of research notes caught my eye. Medieval Bestiary. It was from all the research I had done looking for a cure for Vee. It felt like years instead of months. Bestiary.

I typed in the Web site for the Medieval Bestiary. The home page read:

HERE BEGINS THE BOOK OF THE NATURE OF BEASTS.

OF LIONS AND PANTHERS AND TIGERS,

WOLVES AND FOXES, DOGS AND APES.

-ABERDEEN BESTIARY

There was a three-line paragraph in the same strange language from the Argent's Bestiary:

INCIPIT LIBER DE NATURIS BESTIARUM.

DE LEONIBUS ET PARDIS ET TIGRIBUS,

LUPIS ET VULPIBUS, CANIBUS ET SIMIIS.

Latin. It was obvious now. I searched the site and clicked on the list of beasts. Through my first instinct, I opened the Wolf and Fox pages in different tabs. Then I clicked on the K on the alphabet line, looking for KANIMA. There was only Kingfisher and Kite, so I closed the page and read the Wolf tab.

Wolf

Latin name: Lupus

Other names: Leu, Lou, Loup, Lup

If a wolf sees a man before the man sees the wolf, the man will lose his voice.

Under General Attributes, it read:

If a wolf sees a man before the man sees the wolf, the man will lose his voice. If the man sees the wolf first, the wolf can no longer be fierce. If a man loses his voice because the wolf saw him first, he should take off all his clothes and bang two rocks together, which will keep the wolf from attacking.

The wolf lives from prey, from the earth, and sometimes from the wind. When the wolf sneaks into a sheep fold, it approaches like a tame dog and is careful to approach from upwind so that the farm dogs do not smell its evil breath. If it steps on a branch and makes a noise, the wolf punishes itself by biting the offending foot. The wolf is cunning: it does not hunt for food for its cubs near its lair, but goes far away to find prey. If a wolf is caught in a trap, it will mutilate itself to escape rather than allow itself to be captured.

I closed it, and moved onto Fox.

Fox

Latin name: Vulpis

Other names: Golpis, Goupil, Gourpil, Gupil, Vurpil

A crafty and deceitful animal that never runs in a straight line.

General Attributes

The fox is a crafty and deceitful animal that never runs in a straight line, but only in circles. When it wants to catch birds to eat, the fox rolls in red mud so that it appears to be covered in blood. It then lies apparently lifeless; birds, deceived by the appearance of blood and thinking the fox to be dead, land on it and are immediately devoured.

The fox represents the devil, who pretends to be dead to those who retain their worldly ways, and only reveals himself when he has them in his jaws. To those with perfect faith, the devil is truly dead.

I closed the window, shut down my laptop and scrounged under the bed with my clothes still on, leaving the lamp desk's light to keep away the monsters of my imagination.

Late at night, my phone chirping pulled me out of sleep. I reached over to silence it but it silenced itself, shutting off. The screen said 1 missed call from LIONEL PARNELL. Groaning, I pressed my head into the pillow, muffling an aggravated scream. Shuffling, and a darting shadow across the room, I rolled myself out of bed, crouched.

"Relax." Patch said, working the shadows around him to be completely shrouded by mystery. "I just want to talk. That is, if you promise not to burn my eyes out with wolfsbane."

"You never told me it worked for your kind."

"I didn't have to." Patch said. "You figured that out all by yourself." He was trying to make me feel guilty, but I didn't. I got to the swimming pools in time to make sure Derek and Stiles and Erica didn't get hurt. Sure, Scott beat me to it, but I was there and that made up for the fact I hurt one of my best friends. It should, it had to because otherwise I couldn't live with myself.

"What do you want, Patch?"

"Did you know that when a werefox is asleep or drunk, their tail pops out, even if they're using an illusion to make humans think they don't?" Patch said. "No, of course you don't. You never even stopped to ask about werefoxes because you were too busy jumping into Derek's pack."

"Patch."

"No, you deserve this after today." I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "You know, a werefox may not be able to rip anyone to shreds like a werewolf can, but we're known to be able to place terrible, _terrible_ curses on people's heads, instead. That and the infamous poisonous bite we have." Light sparkled off Patch's suddenly sharp teeth. "During a full moon that's the worst that can happen. A werefox catches your scent, misses you with a poisonous bite, and the next day horrible things are happening to you." He laughed, an awful sharp sound that made me scramble for the gun under my pillow. Patch dropped the clip out of the 9mm and tossed it to me.

"It was the fox that many Native American sorcerers preferred to shapeshift into." My eyes darted to the knife I left on my night stand. Silver glinted in Patch's long fingers. "Even though most tribes consider the fox as an instrument for negativity, evil magicians just seemed to love our form."

"Patch!" I cried. "What do you want?"

"My silver chain back." He said, placing the knife carefully onto my desk. "I know you still have it, but I can't find it. Is it on you?"

"No." I said, remembering how after I showered I left it in the bathroom. "But if you want the silver chain back, I want my father's ring back."

"No." He said.

"No?"

"No." Patch repeated. "I can't give it back to you. Yet."

"Then bring it next time, when you're done with it, and I'll give you the chain." I said. I waited for a response from the darkness but Patch was already gone. The thought of my father's ring reminded me of my father's killer: Kate. I would have done something, confronted Chris or pent up rage about her, but things had changed. I had changed and I wasn't nearly so naïve as I used to be. Derek killed Peter, who killer her. There was nothing I could so about it, so all I could do was let go of my father's killer and his ghost and live on with my life. And that's what I was doing with Derek, who was crawling through the window.

"I smelt Patch." Derek said. "And I thought you might not want to see him, tonight."

"Thanks, he's gone." I said. "Wait. Were you outside?"

"Yes."

"Outside my house?"

"Yes. After seeing the kanima, I just wanted to make sure you were okay since you had Stiles bring you home."

"I'm flattered." I said, pulling the sheet off my bed and slipping inside.

"Why?" Derek asked, slipping in with his boots and socks off. "Your mine to protect, aren't you?"

"Yes." I said, feeling his heat waft towards me. "But—"

"Erica talked to me." Derek said.

"Great."

"I've shared my Alpha power with you." Derek said. "Divided it between us. What more do you want me to do to prove my love for you?"

He tensed up as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Love?" I demanded. "Love?"

"Yeah." Derek said slowly, cringing. "Why else would I be literally looking over your shoulder for the kanima?" He took my hands in his, sliding down my shoulders and muzzling my neck to not look into my eyes. "I love you, Nora."

"I-I love you too." My heart fluttered in my chest, flip-flopping. Derek's lips pressed to mine, moving his hand to the back of my neck. "Take off your jeans." I said, plucking at the waistband. "They're still soggy and you can't be comfortable… all… dressed?"

Derek grinned, stealing my breath and halting my heart beat. He peeled off his jeans, leaving them at a heap on the floor, pooled beside his shirt. Bare and so close to me, I slid into his lap and just rested my head against his chest. Tracing a circle around his nipple, I said, "I do love you, Derek."

"I know."

"Despite what my heart says."

"I know." He kissed the top of my head, moving to get comfortable under me, bare skin sliding against skin. "You didn't lie, Nora. I know that." Arm over my back, I crushed my cheek to his chest, wanting to memorize the flat planes and curves of his impressive body. I wanted to make him writhe and moan with my mouth and tongue, to come undone at my touch.

Instead I fell asleep on top of Derek, who was only in grey briefs with three buttons. Before I drifted off, I stroked the lines of his shoulders, traced the avalanches of muscle on his chest, raked my nails down his hair-dusted legs. He nibbled at my ear, nipping like a kitten on the soft skin of my neck and pressed a hand between my thighs to roll me over. Spooning, I laughed at the thought of how we must look like that. Derek sniffed my hair, curling a curl around his finger and licking the skin of my ear.

"I love you Nora, and I don't care that you lied." He said, stealing my breath in an entirely different way. He didn't understand! I didn't know I was lying when I said those three stupid words. I turned around, suddenly awake.

"I love you." I said. "I love you." I grabbed his big, strong hand and pressed it over my breast. "Am I lying? Am I? I love you, Derek. I love you!" He crushed his lips to mine, squeezing our bodies together. I didn't want to lie. I didn't. I couldn't control the beat of my heart, any more than the bits of red in my hair. Our eyes bled red as we kissed, passionately, and I tried to tell him how much I loved him without words, because words were making me out to be a liar, and I did love Derek. So I showed it through my actions, because words weren't enough.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: VENEMOUS

On the way to the school, I told Erica what happened with Vee and Patch. She stayed silent until I finished, but by then we had already arrived, and she just sniffed the air—looking for Jackson's scent. "He's in there alright." She said. "But not alone."

"Who else would be there with him, at this time?" I asked.

"I don't know." Erica said. "Is he going to be a problem?"

"Probably not." I said. "Let's go inside."

Vee had given me the feeling she was definitely jealous. She had said it herself, she wasn't about to be replaced by Erica. Vee was jealous of Erica, was Erica jealous of Vee? I'd have to look out for any signs the next time I mentioned her; tensing, clenching her jaw, squaring her shoulders, trying to seem confident and not fidgeting.

We walked through the school halls. Erica led. Stopping at the door for the boy's locker room, her ears pricked up. "Water running." She stated, very trancelike. "Jackson's scent is still there… his heart beat…"

"Then it's probably just Danny."

"Danny?"

"Jackson's best friend."

Erica's ears pricked again, and she silently stepped into the room. Jackson was near the showers, the spray steaming fog into the open-planned display. It didn't look like the place where towel-snapping guys would shower, mainly because of the dim lighting. Trying to bench press more than he could, Jackson's blue work-out shirt was lifted ever so much to show a strip of lickable skin. Erica did. Lick her lips.

With one leather-sleeved hand, she lifted the weights up onto the set, holding more strength in that one hand of hers than Jackson had in his whole body.

His face was screwed up so tight he didn't even see her. Manly perspiration damped the room, sticking my shirt to my skin. I wondered how Erica wasn't plugging her nose. Maybe she liked the stench. Jackson said, a little breathy, "Thanks."

"Any time." Erica downright purred, over the blasting rock-'n'-roll music. Jackson's eyes flew open, blue in disarray to the pupils. Erica snaked out her hand to latch around his neck. Danny's form was visible through the thick smoke. He didn't even turn around.

She dragged him back to the subway station, where Isaac and Derek were waiting.

Once we reached down the steps, Isaac perked up to grab the other side of Jackson. Erica wore a beautifully stitched red shirt under her leather jacket and jeans. Isaac was less hands-on, and wore a simple white sweater that clung to his nice frame, with jeans to match that weren't too tight. They were just right.

Together, the two Betas pulled back an arm of Jackson, each, so his blue shirt wrinkled to his the cut form of his body.

Derek sat, toying with a broken sharp from the swimming pools. "What happened to you on the night of the full moon?" He asked, dressed in what was hard to tell, since it was all dark and he was hunched over, long legs splayed under him.

Jackson was still gasping for breath. "Wh-what? Nothing. Nothing happened!" He reared forward, to which Erica simply jerked her arm so he fell back into place between her and Isaac, who was coupling him back with both hands. Boyd was home, nursing the bruise I had left him.

Derek's green eyes were clouded, unbelieving. He took Jackson in, all of him, by just gazing into his eyes. Jackson squirmed, still breathing heftily. "You're lying." Derek said, leaving no room for argument.

He carefully placed the glass beside him, and reached over to slowly tug on a black glove.

I don't know what Jackson thought he was going to do, but he was nervous all too suddenly. "Wait. No, wait! I can prove it." Derek cocked his head, minusculely, to show his interest, working his fingers into the pads of the glove. Jackson took a long breath. "I taped myself." A smile broke through Derek's surface, he looked down. Isaac laughed.

"You taped yourself?" He asked, managing to make it sound like the dirtiest, most laughable thing you could ever do with a camera.

"Yes." Jackson said, irritably. "It was the full moon." He got closer to Isaac, Erica letting him just reach over to be nose-to-nose with him. "And maybe while you were crawling in the corner, having an existential crisis about turning into a monster, I was preparing for the so-called gift your Big Bad Alpha promised me, and what do I get?" He looked insane, eyes popping out of the sockets and snapping at Isaac, at the end of a chain yanked around his neck that was Erica's hand. I had no experience in dealing with insane people, and it showed. I moved away from him, reaching out to Derek almost instinctively. "You want proof?" Jackson looked between all of us, calming down with deep breaths after looking at Jackson, to Erica and ending on Derek and I. "Let me get the video."

Derek looked down, full lips blossoming into a smile, almost of sadness. "No." He dragged out the word, plucking up the glass. Both gloves were on now. I stood by Derek, his knee pressed against the back of mine. Derek angled the broken sliver of mirror to catch light and shine in Jackson's face. "I have a better idea."

Spots of white light waved over his features. "What is that?" He asked. I nodded at Erica and Isaac. They wrenched him to his knees, making him yelp at the end of his sentence. Derek smiled, and rubbed the back at my leg, smiling at the command I gave them, with just a gesture. He winked, and got up, still flashing the glass.

He walked slowly to inspire fear into Jackson. Erica and Isaac had him propped up. I moved to stand behind him, grabbing the back of his head and tilting up with enough eye-watering strength to give Isaac the angle he needed. Isaac slotted his lips open, thumb parting the bottom lip from the top. Erica stood, vibrating with the tension slash excitement. She had a firm grip on his shoulder, and if she rotated the cuff it would break his arm. I gave her a warning look about that, which she seemed to note, well enough.

"You know, Jackson, you've always been kind of a snake." Derek said. Around Isaac's thumb, Jackson glared. Isaac had a grasp of his chin too, lifting his head higher so his lip wouldn't close—or he couldn't bite, either. Derek gave a short, convincing laugh. "And everyone knows, a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom." All seriousness, Derek moved closer, glass ready. I tugged on his hair harder, making his breathing cut off. The two Betas followed suit, gripping him with more strength than actually necessary.

Jackson tried to fight it, gagging and groaning around the three of us. But Derek got him. He was propped up and open and ready. Derek lowered the glass, clear paralytic liquid sparkling and glittering until one drop, with the power to render someone useless, dripped into his mouth, extended from the puddle that was smeared over the glass. Isaac closed his mouth, forcibly. Erica took over from there, positioning him up so the liquid would flow down his oesophagus and enter his system, smoothly. It was almost as if she were trying to do him a favour. That's what kept her humanity alive, and told me she still cared. Despite everything.

Erica seemed to notice the way Isaac stared at her, and plastering a cruel smile over her face, let him drop to the floor, gagging on the bitter toxin. Erica stepped back into line with me, and Isaac was at Derek's side with his arms crossed.

Jackson's head trembled, shaking spasmically, but his body was still. Arm draped over his side, legs crossed at the ankles. Derek looked up at Isaac, rolled his neck, sighed. He dropped to a crouch beside Jackson's head, blocking the view for the rest of us. Derek's head was cocked to the side, glass still in his hand. Erica and I shared a long look, then Isaac looked at us and nodded. We still had a snake to find.

"You're still a snake, Jackson." Derek said. "Just not the one we're looking for." He retreated away into the discarded subway cart, with Erica trailing after him, blonde waves spilling around her face.

"Erica and I brought him," I said to Isaac, "You take him back." He nodded, a smile playing at his lips. Before I left to go to the cart, I said, "Isaac." He looked up at me, trying very hard not to smirk. "What are you going to do to him?"

Isaac smiled, privately. "Persuade him to do me a favour." Isaac dropped close to Jackson's head and whispered sweet nothings to him, playing cat-and-mouse. He joined me in Derek's cart, leaving Jackson there to come back to.

"Jackson's not it." Erica said, "We've still got one more person to test."

"Lydia." I said. "She was Bitten by Peter but nothing's happened."

"Exactly." Derek smiled. "Tomorrow. Test her tomorrow. Do any of you have a class with her?"

"Actually," Isaac said, "We all have chemistry with her."

"We?" Erica asked. "Since when are you back in school?"

Isaac smiled. "Since tomorrow. Jackson's gonna retract his statement."

"Good." Said Derek. "I think I'm gonna need all three of you."

I felt bad for not realizing Erica and Isaac were in history with me, but brushed it off. Before the Bite they were invisible, now they were much more than visible. And they had me to thank for it. I didn't need to feel bad. "How are we gonna test her in the middle of a class?"

"I've still got kanima venom." Derek assured. "Don't worry."

"No." I said. "I meant that Scott and Stiles have the same class with Lydia. Allison, too, I think. Tomorrow's Thursday, right?" Isaac nodded. "Then she does." I sighed. "That's three people we'll have to get past."

"We'll just have to sit next to her first." Erica said. "No problem."

"I don't care about the details." Derek huffed. "Sort it out between yourselves. I'll be waiting outside school with Boyd, after class. If she's negative, tell me." He said. "If she's positive…"

"Kill her?" Isaac asked, way too eager.

"Yes."

"No!"

Derek turned to me. "No?"

"You can't just kill Lydia." I said. "Even if she is the kanima."

"Why the hell not?" Derek demanded. "If she killed Isaac's father." He pointed to Isaac, and all the colour drained from his face. "And two others." Derek was shouting, clearly on the end of his lifeline for patience with me. "What's to stop her from killing again?"

"Us." Erica said.

"You cannot be serious." I said. "You're with him?" I asked. Erica and Isaac looked ashamed, down at the ground. "You want to kill a teenage girl? It's murder!"

"What else would you have us do?" Derek asked, hulking above me. "What can we do against something stronger and faster than us? We don't have a choice. If we don't kill it, it'll kill us. If it's not Lydia, you have nothing to be worried about."

"I didn't you'd just kill anyone."

"It's not just anyone."

"It doesn't know who it is." I protested, feeling the conversation steer out of hand. "If it's wrong, can't we make it right?"

"No." Derek said. "There's no way you can fix something that broken." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Listen, Nora. It has killed and it will kill again. Deaton said it himself, it's only purpose may be killing."

I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing in even the deepest, darkest place of me where I smile when the gaps between my fingers are closed by a gun, that this was wrong. "I know Lydia." I said, voice muffled by his shirt as Derek closed the distance between us to pull me into a hug. He signalled, above my head, for Erica and Isaac to go. "She's my friend."

"Then you do it." Derek said. I pushed away from him, palms smacked against his chest, mouth hanging open. "I want you to kill her. If she doesn't get paralyzed. She's your friend and she means something to you, so don't let Isaac or Erica make her suffer. A clean kill." Derek reasoned, unreasonably. "Bring your gun. A head-shot and she won't even feel it." He noticed my hesitation, and said, "Nora, this happened for a reason. Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are."

"Oh, Derek," I encircled my arms around his thick waist, face enflamed by tears. My lip wobbled. "I-I understand." I said. "If she's the kanima… there's no other option." He pulled me away from him, wiping the stray tears out from under my eyes with the rough pads of his thumbs, catching a few wet curls. He kissed the top of my head.

"That's my girl."

* * *

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hide the gun I was bringing to school in my outfit. So I double-checked and triple-checked to make sure the safety was off, and put it in my backpack. There was a clip in my dad's office that fit the 9mm, so I reloaded it and went off to school. Realizing I had basically alienated my mother for the past few days, I let her drive me to school, talking comfortably as she did.

It was her second day off, but tomorrow she'd be right back into work, going somewhere near the next town over from Beacon Hills, and then up higher and out of California. Gave me plenty of time to deal with the new rising threat of the kanima, if Lydia wasn't it, Lionel and more alone time with Derek, which I couldn't argue was better than when my mom brought home gifts from her work.

Erica was waiting in the parking lot for me. Seeing her, my mom waved with a slight-frown. "She's not Vee." Mom said. "Since when do you have other blonde friends that weren't Vee?"

"Bye, Mom." I said, chastely, running up to Erica. All morning, I heard about the return of Isaac back to school after killing his father. Erica must have joined me in rolling my eyes at that more than ten times, over. It was a shock when Patch came up to us and said:

"Can I talk to you?" He looked Erica over and said, "Alone."

"No." I said, making Erica leer and smile. "Whatever you have to say can be said with her, here."

Patch waited a long time before saying, "Ms. Morrell needs to see you." And running off.

"Who's Ms. Morrell?" Erica asked, as soon as he was out of earshot. "I've never heard of her."

"She's the guidance counsellor." I explained. "She's sorta been helping me deal with my dad's death. But now that I know who killed him, I won't be needing to go to her, anymore." Erica knew that Kate Argent had been the one to shoot my dad, and knew exactly who she was after I explained it to her. It only seemed to clear up why I was still with the Argents. Erica saw it as a way to hurt them when Derek would ask for my inside man position to be costly by doing something risky.

"What do you think she wants?"

"Probably to ask about my feelings." I said, making Erica laugh all the way into Algebra II. The bell could not have rung any later than it did, in what felt like hours later.

We met up with Isaac at his locker, shuffling out of class so fast I barely had time to note down the homework assignment before Erica pulled me away. "So Derek wants this done, during chemistry?" She asked, flinging her hair out of her eyes with her left hand, a bracelet with diamond-looking charms strapped to it, tinkling.

"Yeah, and if it's Lydia, I'm gonna kill that bitch, alright?"

"We have to test her first." I said, trying to make my voice like Erica's; sultry and smooth with a touch of indignant authority. Erica nodded, agreeing.

"Kanima." Isaac said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Erica punched his shoulder playfully. The bell rung, making us go to our next period. Erica wasn't in ours, we had European history with Allison. She smiled at me but stopped with wide-eyes seeing Isaac walking into class, behind me. Isaac sat beside me. He told me the story of why he hated Lydia so much: freshmen year he asked her out, only to have his heart broken when she told him to ask again when the bike he rode to school had an engine instead of a chain.

Erica was waiting for us, outside of class. "I heard," She said, as soon as we walked out, all speed walking to chemistry, "that Lydia completely freaked out during Econ. Wrote gibberish on the chalk board and was crying."

"Do you think she's losing her mind?"

"She could be remembering killing those three people, as the kanima." Isaac said, hopefully.

The three of us walked into chemistry, through the back door. Lydia was at the front, flipping through a text book. The room was re-designed to fit the purposes of the experiment undergoing. As soon as we walked in, Scott and Stiles, deep in conversation, followed through the front door—closer to Lydia than we were.

Scott mumbled something to Stiles, followed our gazes to Lydia and then looked back at us. Most pair of eyes were staring at us, in class. Erica began walking, lazily, toward Lydia but Scott bounced into the stool beside her, dropping his knapsack at the floor. Stiles pulled up a seat at the corner of the table. Erica and Isaac sat behind them, Erica glaring at Stiles' stupidly smiling face.

I sat on the window-side of the room, beside Marcie's empty seat. In acknowledgement, she just raised her brows at me, propped her head on her hand, elbow on the table, and looked out the window. Looked like someone had problems of their own. Marcie could be the kanima. She could be the kanima, and I would enjoy killing her. Vee would love that—my stomach fluttered, thinking about her.

Allison walked in, asking all sorts of questions just with her expression. Scott nodded back at Erica, who was smirking with her eyes narrowed predatorily.

"Einstein," Mr. Harris said, "Once said, two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity and I'm not sure about the universe." He stopped, placing something on Isaac's side of the table. The kanima venom? No. Derek would have given that to Isaac long before today, and definitely wouldn't entrust Mr. Harris with it. Although, Mr. Harris did owe Derek for saving him from Peter, that one night. I dismissed the implausible idea. "I myself, have encountered infinite stupidity." He placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, repeatedly, making Stiles chew his lip blankly and Lydia smile obliviously. Isaac glared at the back of her head, strawberry blonde hair tucked into her strawberry pink jacket. "So, to combat the plague of ignorance in my class," Mr. Harris continued, without missing a beat, "You're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one." He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, Lydia looking up at him expectantly.

"Erica, take the first station. You can start…" Half the class's hands shot up, more than most of the male population of the student body and even a few females. Marcie took one look and blew out an exasperated sigh.

"You okay?" I asked her.

She rolled her eyes at me.

"I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down." They all deflated, slowly, defiantly, back into their laps, hands, tables. Mr. Harris waited until everyone's hand had dropped to say, "Start with Mr. McCall." Which couldn't have been better, if the look on Erica's face was anything to go by. Rolling her eyes from Scott, over to Allison, who was looking hesitantly away, Erica looked glumly snug.

"Alright, next two." Mr. Harris divided us up into pairs, after Erica and Scott, he put Allison and Lydia together, Marcie and Isaac together, and Stiles and I together.

I let Stiles fondle the liquids and the beakers, all wrong, and waited until he began talking. "Derek thinks Lydia's the kanima, doesn't he? She's a suspect. Why?"

Taking the beaker away from him, I began pouring the blue vile.

"Nora?"

"She was Bitten by Peter." I said, hands shaking at the thought of the gun in my backpack. "Don't you think she's at least a suspect?" I thrust the beaker at him. He took it and stared before placing it back on the table, shaking the contents, and looking at me square in the eye.

"I saw the thing." Stiles said. "The kanima. I looked into its eyes and saw nothing but…"

"Evil." I finished for him. Swallowing, he nodded. "But it doesn't know what it is, Stiles." I felt like nobody was stressing that point enough, that if the kanima didn't know what it was, he or she didn't know what it was, either. "And Jackson's not it, which means…" It was his turn to end my sentence, but he refused just like he refused to believe Lydia could even _possibly_ be the kanima.

Stiles picked up the line, but twisted it. "It's someone else. Not Lydia." He stressed. "Not. Her."

"Why not her, Stiles? Because you're in love with her? Well guess what. Looks can be deceiving. You wouldn't have guessed Scott was a werewolf just by looking at him, would you?" I didn't wait for him to even react. "Of course not. He looks like a cute puppy dog. So why can't Lydia be a snake?" Stiles was speechless, flabberghasted. Harris rang his silly little bell and I packed up my things. Then, feeling the moment to be too sweet not to ripe, I pressed in real close to his ear, and whispered intimately, "Unrequited love's a bitch, isn't it?" Stiles would figure out the innuendo. How could he not?

Allison was at my next station, already waiting. She was the one person I couldn't handle. Guilt trip Stiles, plot with Erica, get the kanima venom from Isaac, test Lydia, play dumb with Scott. But Allison, no. I couldn't do any of those things with her, I had to be real with her because she was real with me—that was the basis of our friendship.

Allison began chucking in the crystalline powder and I stirred the liquid, putting in some labelled tap water. "Nora," She began. I sighed, deeply. "This is Lydia. Lydia Martin, our friend, who's had enough supernatural shtick to last her a lifetime."

I smiled.

"What?" She asked.

"You just said shtick."

"Nora!" Allison hissed. "Stop, please. This isn't you. This is Derek. I know you would never do something to one of your friends."

"Allison, what if Lydia is the kanima?" I asked, appealing to her hunter side. Which was lost on her. "How are we supposed to protect ourselves from a killer who doesn't know she's killing?"

"Are you going to test her?"

"Yes." I said. "But if she's positive, I can't do anything to stop _them_." I said, gesturing to Erica and Isaac.

"Yes," Allison said, "Yes you can." Then, like it was the biggest revelation of the year, she sucked in a breath and dragged it out, eyes wide and smile curved, "You're an Alpha, too."

If Lydia was the kanima, could I really stop Erica and Isaac from trying to kill her, and oppose Derek's authority like that?

It was the final round, and Mr. Harris rung his bell. Isaac went to Lydia, as planned, leaving Scott and Stiles, Erica and Allison, me and Marcie as partners. Tension fizzed in the lab, as Isaac grinned (hate to say it) like a wolf at Lydia, who stole little, untrusting looks at him whenever she could. They weren't even who I was focused on. Erica and Allison were the flight risk couple. Erica, the hot new Beta who had her eye on Scott, and Allison, the huntress who was still dating him in secret. If a boy didn't spark a catfight between them, a kanima would.

"Hey," Marcie squalled. "I don't know what's going on with you, Nora, but get a grip."

"Excuse me?"

"The new clothes, the new friends." She looked up at Erica, who was invading Allison's personal space like a pro. "Frankly I liked you better as a nerd. You kept better company then. Have you taken a page out of your mother's book?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was almost too scared to ask. Marcie fiddled with the beakers, shrugged, and went back to playing with them like a child with her first science kit. "Give me that!" I snatched the tumbler out of her hands and zipped in the last ingredient, which smoked fog on the glass of the tube.

"If you're going to dress and act like a slut," Marcie said, gaze stifling for emphasis, "Ask me about it. I, at least, know how to exercise some self-control. Something you need practice in."

I was left there, staring at her with my jaw hanging from my shoelaces, when Harris slapped his metallic bell. "Time. If you've catalysed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." Marcie bottled the semi-formed crystal between a pair of clippers, or tongs, and lifted it up to see. It was sugary white, and flaky, crumbling under the tongs. Two more crystals were less solid and stuck to the edges of the beaker. "Now, for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy. You can _eat _it."

Marcie crunched the chalky stick between her teeth.

Lydia was in front of us, taking the crystal between two fingers from the tongs Isaac held. Scott caught on. He glared at the crystal, dripping in kanima venom, a hairsbreadth away from Lydia's glossy pink lips. Tongue out, a dollop dabbed down into her mouth and—

"Lydia!" Scott screamed like a lunatic, throwing his chair back. Green eyes wide, she stared at him.

"What?" Lydia said, swallowing the venom.

"Nothing." Scott said, quickly, sitting down, hesitantly.

Nothing happened. Isaac looked like he was lost, just gazing at her lips wrapping around the crystal, crunching it. Scott and Stiles shared a look, and Stiles looked down, defeated. Erica cleared her throat. She nodded at me when I looked over. Derek was in the parking lot, under the Cyclones Lacrosse team sign. I couldn't hide it from him, then. Even if I could control Isaac and Erica, he knew and there was nothing I could do to stop from killing Lydia. Scott stared, out of his mind, at Derek.

* * *

Vee hung up with Rixon and entered the empty classroom with Stiles, Allison and Scott, having been filled in on what happened during chemistry.

"Derek's outside waiting for Lydia." Scott said. Stiles threw his backpack on the floor. It hurt him the most, the fact that Lydia was this kanima creature. He had been pining over her for the last century, and only now realized she was cold-blooded? It was lost on Vee whatever Nora ever saw in him.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison asked, sounding desperately in denial, not believing. Vee took in her surroundings. There was a trophy case in the corner of the room and a desk. Coach Finstock's office?

"If he thinks she's the kanima, then yes." Scott threw up his hands.

Allison sighed, long and deep, which sounded on the verge of being close to a lumberjack's grunt.

"Especially after what happened at the pool." Scott said. Mainly, after Nora blew up and attacked Patch and her two hunter friends, Vee tried to help them all get back on their feet and on their way home. She didn't have time to worry about Scott or the others. Stiles had filled her in on that misadventure though, so she was all caught up on the latest motives to kill Lydia, who was seemingly, the kanima.

"It's not her." Stiles disputed, disgusted, stubbornly.

"Stiles," Scott tried to reason, tried to argue, "She didn't pass the test, man, nothing happened."

"No. It can't be her." Stiles continued, clingingly hoping beyond hope, so weakly his armour was showing signs of cracking.

"It doesn't matter, because _Derek _thinks it's her." Allison said, voice going deep and ringing like a crystal-dripping-kanima-venom bell over his name. All argument was lost on the Big Bad Alpha, simply because it made him feel weak, powerless, for one night. Now, he wanted to kill it. Typical male werewolf, Vee thought, with an inward eye roll. "So… either we can convince him that he's wrong or… we've gotta figure out a way to protect her."

"He can't really do anything here." Vee said. "Not at school."

"What about after school?" Allison asked, whispered, barely able to form the thought of her boyfriend's ex-mentor killing her best friend once all classes for the day were through.

Scott sighed and Allison threw herself back, sitting on Coach's desk. She dropped her head, thinking so hard Vee thought she could see her veins pulsing under the skin of her taut neck. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By three o'clock?" Stiles asked, already poking holes in the only plan they had.

"There could be something in the bestiary." Vee chirped up, feeling the tables turning for their side of the banquet.

Stiles was angry. Three degree burns kind of angry. "Oh, you mean the nine hundred page book written in Archaic Latin that none of us can read?" Every word was pronounced spittingly slowly with a thunderstorm of hurt behind his sarcastic defence. "Good luck with that."

"Actually," Vee said, barely able to contain a smile, "I think I might know someone who might be able to translate it."

"I can talk to Derek." Scott said, in between sighs like they had already lost the battle, which aggravated Vee more than any threat Derek could make. He was not going to win, she thought, with tooth and nail, they would fight to make sure he wouldn't take another one of them. Not another. Not after taking Nora away from her. "Maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not her." Scott looked at Stiles and Vee. "But if anything happens, you guys let me handle it. Okay?"

"What does that mean?" Allison asked, beating Vee to it.

"You can't heal like I do." Scott countered.

"Actually, I can." Vee said. "It's about the one good thing that came from Peter's Bite."

"Except you, then." Scott said. "But I just don't want you getting hurt." He directed that line particularly at Allison. She gave him a dumb look, tipping her head and squinting. Then, she turned over her backpack inside out, making Siles crane his neck to see what she was pulling out.

The crossbow flicked out beside her pantyhose-covered purple leg, and she lifted it up to the side of her face to the arrow was pointed upwards. "I can protect myself." She said, and Vee bought it, without a doubt. Even if the black weapon was small, it was armed, and Allison looked like a solider holding it up like that with a stone-cold poker face.

Stiles was convinced too.

Something hit Vee's nose, and she sensed that Scott was struggling to find the words he really meant for Allison. She and Stiles turned to give them a semblance of semi-privacy in the tight room.

Allison placed the crossbow on top of her knapsack. "What?" Scott had his best innocent puppy eyes aimed at her. And they were working. "Did something else happen?" Stiles was staring at Scott now too, so Vee thought it'd be okay if she turned around.

Scott swallowed, "I just don't want you getting hurt." He stressed, in pure agony. Bitter raspberries. "Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me." Scott said, making Vee uncomfortable. "Okay? I don't care if your dad finds out! Call, text…" Allison looked down. "Scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can." Allison nodded. "You have until three." Allison nodded again.

"Does that count for all of us?" Vee asked. "Or just Allison." Scott blinked at her. "I'm kidding, Scottie. Don't worry," She slung an arm around Allison's shoulders. "Nothing will happen to either of them, I'll make sure of it. And if it does, you know, I'll howl and you'll come find me." Scott rolled his eyes, but a smile traced his lips and he turned to go. Because that was Vee's roll in this. She couldn't stick people together like Nora could, and did with Patch and herself, and she couldn't be their rocks or relate to them like Nora did with Allison but damn if she couldn't lighten the mood with her big mouth.

An arrow whipped through the small space, trained at Scott's back. He flung around, catching it in an enclosed iron fist. Allison closed her eyes and turned to look at Stiles. Vee let go of her, feeling the anger wafting off her in waves.

"Ahh." Stiles said, handing Allison back her crossbow. "Sorry." He muttered. Allison shook her head. "Sorry." He said, louder, to Scott. "Sensitive trigger. On that." Vee just laughed. She wasn't the only one who could lighten the mood.

* * *

"Do you mind me asking where you got this?" Ms. Morrell looked up from the printed page of the kanima spread in the bestiary. "A book?"

Vee was there with Allison for "moral support". Course when she said that, Allison rolled her eyes with a smile, like Scott did. The real reason was that Vee plain didn't trust Ms. Morrell. She was shady, with all the stuff that happened with Nora last month—her having Patch protect Nora from the truth because her dad was a hunter? That didn't even make any sense. Vee didn't know who Ms. Morrell really was, and frankly the woman was a mystery to everyone else too. She was the guidance counsellor, giving people advice was her job, sure she advised Patch to protect Nora, but she seemed to have something else about her that Vee could _smell_ but couldn't place. Like a fragrance, flowery but more like an herb than an actual flower. Maybe Ms. Morrell was an herb-woman and her brother was an herb-man. Still, Vee didn't want to let Allison go to her alone, so she was here.

"Um, family heirloom." Allison said, holding a pink notebook to her chest with her arms crossed over it.

Ms. Morrell nodded, her eyes and her smile wide. "Interesting family." Allison raised and dropped her brows at that, to which Vee responded by bumping into her. "I'm pretty familiar with most romance languages but this is a little out of my reach." Lair. Vee could hear the blip in her heart beat, and although she played the part convincingly to Allison, her smile became a little thinner and her form a little discomposed when her eyes would brushed over Vee. She knew Vee was a werewolf, but she didn't know Allison knew, and much like Nora, Ms. Morrell would play the fool to keep her from knowing, simply because it was too dangerous for a teenager's world.

"Can you give it a shot?" Allison pushed, beginning to sense this was a bad idea. Vee could hear it in her voice. Ms. Morrell gave a sympathetic look and although Vee heard her heart beat, she was struggling so much that Vee thought maybe she had imagined the telltale of a lie.

"All right, um." She hummed. "_Ka-ni-ma_." She enunciated, slowly, confused and asked Allison, "Do I have that right?"

Allison nodded "Yeah."

"Like the wolf," Ms. Morrell said. "Its _power_ is greatest at the moon's peak." She pronounced, slowly. "Huh." Ms. Morrell laughed, "Sounds like a werewolf." She said, jokingly with a laugh and a smile that showed too much teeth.

Allison laughed, staged, and threw up a hand with an eye roll. Ms. Morrell went back to the text and Allison's face went sleet clean. She looked over at Vee with wide eyes and Vee calculated all the facial expressions as Ms. Morrell continued to decipher the Latin script.

"Urgh. There's some words here I don't recognize." She said. There was no blip or boop or beep to tell Vee she was lying there. The woman did know some Archaic Latin, but not enough to truly understand the bestiary.

"Just try." Allison pleaded, quickly adding, "Please." with a shrug and a smile.

"Could I… hold onto it for a bit?" Ms. Morrell asked, voice going higher near the end. Vee bristled at that, narrowing her green eyes ever so much at her. Ms. Morrell noticed, and brow still puckered she looked over at Vee, asking her as well as Allison.

"Now is better." Answered Vee. "Please."

Ms. Morrell kept her mouth at an O, but sighed through the pain and looked down again, determined this time. "All right. Um… Okay. Like the wolf, the kanima is a social creature. But where a wolf seeks a _pack_, the kanima seeks… a friend."

"A friend? What does that mean?" Vee asked, no one in particular but Allison looked at her, brows pluckered together.

Ms. Morrell seemed to register the question, and answered with real interest, and a real smile. A triumphant one. "Maybe it's lonely."

Allison pondered this, and said, "Like a teenager."

* * *

If I thought it was hard to hide a gun in clothes, it was even harder to hide it in plain-sight. The halls were empty, but I still didn't feel right about holding a gun. The holster was at home, under my mattress. With the safety on, I tucked it into the back of my pants and led Erica and Isaac down the hall. They were following her scent, but I was still in charge here.

Isaac snicked out his claws, scraping them along the metal of the lockers. We had all left our still in our lockers, ready for a quick kill. The sound was grating, but it sent vibrations along Isaac's arm that he seemed to enjoy.

Erica twirled in place beside him, grinning. With the tracks of his claws along the lockers, Isaac examined his claws with piqued interest. Were they sharper, duller, damaged?

"Can you smell her?" I asked them. Erica's hair bounced behind her, and Isaac was swaggering casually, both taking their sweet time.

"Library." Isaac said, and Erica nodded, agreeing. Up the steps, following her scent, Isaac stopped, touching Erica's sleeve. Opening the door to the library, I scanned the interior. Only one table was occupied; Danny and Matt were on it.

Erica followed Isaac inside. He grabbed the back of Matt's shirt and pulled him up to his feet without having to try. "Where is she?" He asked, in a gravelly voice he had probably practiced at home. Matt looked at me, then Danny, both of them confused.

* * *

Stiles was still tugging at Lydia's arm to pull her through the door. She jerked his hand off, violently, narrowly missing cracking his nose with her elbow. "If we're doing a study group, why didn't we just stay in the library?" She demanded, superiority mixing with what Vee thought was ignorance. But was actually annoyance.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else." Stiles assured, touching her arm. Any excuse just to touch her, Vee thought.

"Why don't they just meet us in the library?" Lydia petitioned, throwing her hand up. Stiles' hand was at the small of her back, guiding her in case she was at flight risk.

"Aww, that would've been a great idea!" Stiles exclaimed, now placing both his hands on her shoulders. "Too late."

"Okay. Hold on." Lydia said.

Jackson grabbed her arm, "Lydia. Shut up and walk." He trudged her through the hall, with more force than Stiles could muster up when he touched her. Allison sighed, following behind Stiles.

"Don't you think Scott's house is the one place they'll think to look first?" Vee asked Allison.

"If we're studying at Scott's house, then, where's Scott?" Lydia asked. Vee felt the need to punch her in the mouth, tenfold, for asking a million questions during the ride over, and not stopping.

"Meeting us here." Stiles said, beating Vee who wanted to say, "Someone gag her."

The Jeep was on the curb of the pavement on Scott's neighbour. Vee climbed up the steps to his house behind Jackson. She couldn't complain about the view.

"Thanks for doing this." Allison mumbled to him, low enough that only Vee's werewolf ears would pick up.

"I need to talk to her anyway." Jackson said, making it sound like he was doing charity work at a soup kitchen instead of making sure Lydia wasn't killed tonight.

Inside, Stiles bolted the door and flicked the chain in the lock, checking the window to look outside. Nobody was here, yet, Vee knew. She couldn't smell any werewolves around, except Scott's lingering honey warm scent.

Lydia eyes the lock, and Stiles looked away at a rigid Jackson who showed more white in his eyes than humanly possible. He looked back at Lydia, who made her eyes wider than saucers. In response to Lydia's unspoken question, Stiles said, "Er. There's been a few break-ins around the neighbourhood."

Lydia gave a curt nod, looking around the corner of the big house. Allison looked down awkwardly and Stiles shrugged. Grabbing a chair, he placed it under the doorknob and Lydia waved a manicured hand in silent question, again.

"And a murder!" Stiles said, in risk of sounding like a court room drama. Allison scratched her head. Jackson sighed, nostrils flaring like a bull. "Yeah, it was bad." Vee didn't think Lydia would believe it, but with Beacon Hills on its crazy spree, with Lydia's psycho biter still on the loose, she was bound to believe anything the newspapers reported—why not one more murder accounted by the Sheriff's son?

Allison caught Jackson's eye and signalled for him to take Lydia upstairs.

"Lydia, follow me." He said, bluntly. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

She sighed. "Seriously? What is going on with everyone?" They walked away, Lydia's heels clicking, up to Scott's bedroom, leaving Vee with Stiles and Allison. She called Scott, using Stiles' phone, as soon as Jackson and Lydia were out of hearing range.

It rang twice before he picked up. "It's me." Allison said.

"What's wrong?" Vee heard Scott say.

"You need to get here. Now. Right now."

Stiles looked out the window again. The sun began to set, dusting the clouds pink. Vee had smelt them only a few moments ago, but there they were. She looked out the window, too, to see them. All lined up. Derek, then Nora, with Boyd beside her, and _Erica _next to him, ending with Isaac.

"Okay, I'm leaving now, on my way." Scott reported, before sprinting from wherever he was.

A few minutes later, Boyd broke formation, but returned after inspecting every square inch of the house. They had moved closer, up to the front lawn. Vee didn't want to admit it, but there was something about Erica's grin that made her uneasy. And seeing Isaac with that leather jacket, like a testament to Derek, was sickening. Nora, worst of all, couldn't leave his side, like she was magnetized to be at his right and where he stepped she stepped.

Stiles ran his hand through his hair, muttering, "Jeez." Vee would fight until she was killed to protect him and Allison and Jackson and Lydia. Gladly. There was no one more loyal than her, Nora knew that. Glossy yellow high heels may have not been the ass-kicking choice of the day, for her, but they'd have to do unless she wanted to fight barefoot.

"They're moving closer." Vee said. "What does that mean? Are they going to break in or not, why are they just standing out there like some sort of… siege?"

Allison looked over and sighed, tapping her phone. Her phone, not Stiles' or Vee's.

"What are you doing?" She asked the brunette.

"I think…" She pressed a sleeve to her nose.

"Allison?" Vee asked.

"I think I have to call my dad." She said.

"But if he finds you here, you and Scott…" Are over, Vee finished for Stiles.

"I know." Allison said. An intense stare came and went. "What are we supposed to do? They're not here to _scare _us, okay? They're… here to _kill_ Lydia."

Vee shut her eyes. "Open the door." She said.

"What?" Stiles and Allison asked, at the same time.

"I said," Vee repeated, "Open the door. Let them in." She opened her eyes, gritting her teeth. "I'll take them on. Scott did it, so it can't be too hard." She flashed a grin, but it went over their heads. "Erica and Isaac… won't be hard. It's Boyd that's worrying. He's bigger, but I know I'm faster." She tried to reassure them, tried to build herself up but Allison was looking at her with a tear in her eye. "Nora won't hurt me and she won't let Derek do it either." Vee continued. "I can handle them off until Scott comes, at least."

"No." Stiles said, wagging his head. "No, no, no."

"Think I can't do it?" Vee tested.

"It's _suicide_." Allison hassled. "There's five of them out there, all equipped to kill."

Stiles looked at her crossbow. "But so are you." He said. "And you, too." He added, to Vee.

"What?" Allison asked.

"I got an idea." Stiles said, "Just shoot one of 'em."

"Are you serious?" Allison whispered.

"How is that better than opening the door?" Vee asked.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves. So let's do it." Stiles pent up, persuading. "At least give it a shot, right?"

Allison peeked through the white curtains. "Okay."

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight. So if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off." Stiles said, convincing himself. "So just shoot one of them." Vee was on board, and so was Allison.

She rolled the curtain aside, slowly, and asked, "Which one?"

"Uh… Derek. Yeah, shoot him." Stiles' voice was catching, breathy. "Preferably in the head."

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can." Vee said shaking her head.

"Okay, uh, just shoot one of the other three, then." Stiles said, excluding Nora—who would surely die from a direct hit with an arrow.

"You mean two." Allison said.

"No, I mean three." Stiles drew back the curtain. "Where the hell is Isaac?"

Allison closed the curtain, stepping back to take aim at the window.

"Just shoot Boyd." Vee said. "Make him go down."

Allison pressed the tip of the crossbow at the window. Vee sniffed the air. Isaac grabbed Allison's arm, knocking the crossbow out of her grip, and threw her to the floor.

Vee dropped to check on her.

Isaac tossed Stiles away from the window, flipping him over like a ragdoll, rumpling the carpet.

Vee threw herself between Stiles' fallen form and Isaac's glowing yellow eyes, really hating her choice in footwear. She growled. "Allison get out of here!" Claws ripping from her fingertips, Vee slammed into Isaac, knocking over a lamp.

* * *

Both white lace curtains were drawn. "Erica." Derek said. "Go. It's your turn." Gleaming, she strode up to the front door, kicking it in and leaving a dent in the wood. Almost instantly, the door shut behind her, closing off what was happening inside to my vision.

"You said I should be the one to kill Lydia," I pressed my hand to Derek's chest, looking Boyd up and down. "Why are you sending Isaac and Erica in, first?"

"To clear the way for you." Derek smiled, making my insides flutter for a different reason. "Go." He kissed my cheek and tugged on my waistband.

I held the gun in one hand, climbing up the McCall stairs. Isaac had gotten in through the back. I had never been inside Scott's house before, and I didn't have werewolf senses, so I'd have to navigate myself around based on what I knew about Beacon Hills architecture.

Once caved in, the door wasn't hard to open. Isaac sensed I was coming and flung it aside for me.

Furniture was over-turned everywhere, broken class crippled in the corner, rugs rolled up and away. Stiles darted through the right side of the house—the kitchen?—and Isaac chased him. There was fumbling upstairs, and then a door splintered open. I walked through an entryway until I saw stairs leading up.

"Nora." I spun around. Vee was behind me, blocking the exit to the front door, she shut it off from view, closing another door behind her.

"Where's Erica?" I asked, lowering the gun. She didn't take it as a peace offering. Her claws were out, although her fangs were still in check, and her eyes weren't glowing, but they were golden ochre and searing.

"Upstairs." Her voice was thick with saliva. "With Allison."

"Vee, I don't want to hurt anyone. I really don't."

"Then why do you have a gun?" She accused. It was a good question. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tossed it onto the counter between us, that I had rounded. It clattered until it sputtered at Vee's feet, which really wasn't a good idea since the safety was still off.

Vee flashed a grin, showing fangs. She clipped around the counter, and I tensed, ready to run. Pulling me into a bone-crushing hug, Vee said, "I knew you weren't with them."

Breaking the hug, I smiled at her, missing her so much. It felt like being disconnected from a part of my body, being away from her for so long. The bond between us, the tied silver string, vibrated, never having been cut, not really.

There were two other doors in the room, one behind me, which Isaac had used to get in, and one on the wall to my left. Stiles broke into the room through the left door, and shut it behind him.

"Playing cat and mouse?" Vee teased, moving him away from the door. She tossed him to me.

Stiles sputtered, like I had burnt him and turned away.

"It's okay." Vee said. "She's with us." Isaac hurled himself at the door, shaking it and making Vee groan.

"Get down." Stiles whispered. "On the floor and close your eyes." I did as I was told, throwing an arm under my head. Vee unlocked the door and opened it, sending Isaac kicking inside.

"You—" He stopped, and I felt his glowing eyes on me. "Nora? What did you do to her?" He roared, and spun around. I heard a sharp crack and then a body dropping to the floor. Stiles tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked at Isaac.

Vee was rubbing her elbow. "What is his nose made of? Adamantium?"

"Where's Allison?" Stiles asked. "We have to help her."

Vee pushed me in front of her, with Stiles at her side. Passing the counter, I picked up my gun and opened the door. Allison was bounding down the stairs. I raised my hands, and she smiled, already knowing what Stiles and Vee knew. That I wasn't here to hurt anybody. I was here to make sure they were safe.

"Allison, where's Erica?" Vee asked, but 'Erica' turned into a loud cry as Isaac rushed at her from behind. She knocked into Stiles, who pulled me into his arms and flushed against the wall, head pressed against his chest as Vee and Isaac danced with slicing claws.

"Stiles." I said, and he immediately let me go.

Scott appeared through the back door and ran at Isaac, grabbing his wrist before his claws slashed Vee. Isaac looked at him, and Vee lashed out her legs, kicking him in the stomach. He doubled over, and Scott threw him to the floor beside Vee. Allison helped her up, and Vee swung her leg out like she was ready to kick a soccer ball. When her high-heeled foot slammed into Isaac, he arced across the room, crashing into the only remaining source of light, and splintering wood around him. Vee growled and grabbed the back of his head, raised it, and cracked plaster around his curls.

Allison dropped the crossbow at my feet and ran upstairs with Scott.

"Know how to use one of these?" I asked Stiles, showing him the gun. He shook his head. "What about this?" Stiles nodded, cautiously, taking the crossbow from my left hand. I aimed the gun at Isaac.

Vee, smirking, lifted him up, limply, into her arms. "He's out like a light." She dragged him to the front entryway. Scott and Allison brought Erica down the stairs, who wasn't moving but had her eyes open.

"The kanima." Allison said, struggling to hold Erica's dead weight. "I used its poison on her."

"It's here?" I asked. Allison nodded, letting Scott handle Erica by himself, taking the crossbow from Stiles. Vee held up Isaac, ready to throw him out the door. I stepped around them to swing open the door, which creaked slightly on its oily hinges.

Isaac went out first, then Scott tossed out Erica.

Derek sighed, looking up to see Scott step onto the porch. Then Vee, Allison and Stiles. Holding the clip in one hand, and the gun in the other, I came out behind them, looking Derek squarely in the eyes with my hands raised over my head. Scott moved so I could step around him.

"I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott." Derek said. "You're not an Omega, you're already an Alpha. Of your own pack." I began to move away from them, but Vee caught my wrist and pinned me to her side.

Derek smiled, wide, all for show. "But you know you can't beat me." He said. Vee matched his smile. Grabbing Scott's hand, she said:

"We can hold you off until the cops get here." We meaning her, Scott and me? Sirens blared in the distance, backing up Vee's threat. Derek turned to hear, but a different sound stole his attention. A spitting, hissing. I looked up.

Scott grabbed Allison and jumped out of the porch, Stiles following with Vee and I coming up to the rear.

The kanima was pulling along its limbs to scale the roof of Scott's house. It snapped his leathery face to our direction, yellow slit eyes glowing with a touch of bloodred in her pupils. In Lydia's pupils. It hissed, revealing rows of black, keen teeth. Vanishing into the night with a swish of its dark tail, I looked at Vee, who was as scared as I had ever seen her, all colour drained from her face.

Allison huddled closer to Scott.

Derek looked at Isaac and Erica. "Get them outta here." He said, to Boyd. He looked over and caught my eye for a long, deep, uninterrupted moment, before—

Lydia stumbled out of the house, strawberry blonde hair flowing liquidly behind her, pink leather jacket over a pale lacy dress, held at the waist by a brown belt. "Would someone _please_ tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

Scott looked to where the kanima had disappeared, and muttered, "It's Jackson."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6: FRENEMY

The thing sprinted away in a mass of swirling black scales and a flicking tail. Boyd was lugging Erica on one shoulder and Isaac on the other, jogging. Scott and Allison were talking quickly and quietly, sorting out details. Stiles was holding the keys to his Jeep, stressing how urgent of a matter it really was.

Derek bolted.

Vee and I shared one look, and were hot on his heels. Derek looked behind him, sighed heavily, and ran faster. He didn't have time to argue that it was dangerous but with two werewolves with me, and a gun in my waistband, I felt pretty safe. I had placed the clip back inside, loading it up, and flicked the safety on. And now we were running.

Derek and Vee were naturally faster than me, but I found a new slightly competitive spurt of speed that kept me in the long run. Vee didn't slow down for me, she was madly hammering away in those heels, eyes narrowed at Derek's broad back. Derek didn't slow down either, when I became breathless and fire began licking my muscles. The flap of his jacket was all I saw, as Vee began to pen my vision. She latched onto my wrist, hand whipping out to grab it, and tugged me along with her. "C'mon!" She said, "We can't lose him!"

Running, running, running as fast as I could. My skin was begin to bake, legs aching, but I knew I had to catch up to them. Vee still had one hand across her back, holding me tightly like a life line. I had to get to Jackson. I had to get to Derek.

Derek was pumping his arms furiously at his sides, and even though I didn't have supernatural speed I had my long legs, which kept me in the race.

Copying Derek, I forced Vee to release my arm and began swinging both of them, cutting through the air that seemed to try to bang me backward. High fog and low lights told me we had reached some type of industrial area of Beacon Hills. Vee's eyes widened when I was by her side, dragging in lungfuls of air just to keep a smidgen left in my tank. I followed her gaze, whooshing the air out of my mouth and ripping some in through my nose, and saw the black shape on all fours skitter away. An inch felt like a mile.

We lost Derek as he rounded the corner. A second and a half later, Vee and I made the same cut and turned, sprinting. Derek lanced up, as if he had been shot from one of Chris's crossbows, and, without losing any momentum or speed, grabbed the top of the chain-link fence in front of us. He leaned forward, fence cutting into his stomach, and _flipped_. His legs were in the air for one moment, and then he landed solidly on the ground, in a crouch. A growl sounded through the quiet night when he looked up, and the kanima hissed in response.

Vee and I slowed, steadily, as we reached the fence. Derek didn't look back, he took off. For Vee, the fence wasn't the problem. I was the problem. Heights were under Marcie Millar on my enemy list, and I didn't have the skill to climb it.

"Vee," I said, "Gimme a boost."

She looked at me, ready to swat a fly on my forehead and print _dumbass_ with its blood. "You're serious?"

"Do you have a better idea?" I shrieked, panicking slowly setting in. "Derek can't fight the thing by himself and it's getting away! Vee, just give me a boost. Now." She stared, rubbing her neck and looked up. "We don't have time to argue, just do it."

Vee sighed, and squatted low with her hands held out, right cupped over the left. "Just be glad you're not wearing freaking heels." She snarled.

Grinning, I reached one hand out to the fence and raised my foot to prod her palm. Leaning all my weight on that foot, Vee rose to stand up, supporting me. Wobbling slightly, I raised my hand to hook one a spot higher on the fence. Vee's arms didn't even tremble.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Yeah." I said, which swooped out of my stomach. Vee dipped down, my stomach plummeting and head spinning with the need for iron, and plunged her hands upwards to the sky. My legs went over my head first, the blood rushing down to my head, reddening my face, and air roared in my ears like wind. Hair thundering down and around, my vision blocked momentarily, the fence's line moved into and then away from me. I saw it as a line of curled wire rushing to meet me but then backing away. A lock of my hair tangled in the wire.

"_Ow_!" I cried out, compulsorily. In the rush of the moment, my head bent to snab against the metal and very brief, very hot pain flashed across my temple to the bridge of my brow. A thin handful of curls ripped out to stay bundled on top of the fence, and my knees gave out as the wind broke around me right-side-up.

"Nora!" Vee screamed, rattling the fence

The ground thrust up to crack against my legs. I tried to get my footing, but only managed with my nonkicking leg, and the other smacked the asphalt ground. Head lolling forward, I reached out one hand to touch the yanked away spot on my head where hair was still blowing in the wind on top of the fence. Throbbing pain teased along my knee, switching to my kicking foot.

"Nora?" Vee said, rattling the fence again to grab my attention. "Are you okay? Babe?"

"I-I'm fine." Getting my bearings, I placed a fist down to the ground to push myself up. Palms out, I said, "Meet me across the fence. Hurry!" Turning to run, pain, more shocking and demanding, rose from my leg to my tailbone. Limping to Derek, I heard Vee curse and scream how she couldn't climb or jump like Derek. Calling over my shoulder, "You'll figure something out!" I focused all my energy on getting my gun and getting the safety off.

Deeper in the industrial area than I had thought, I paused to look around. It was all very dark, and damp and misty. Streetlights facing right from my left illuminated Derek in front of me. I opened my mouth to scream his name when my fingers pulled on the clip instead of the safety. Dropping to my sore knees, gingerly, to pick it up and jam it back into the gun, I looked up and froze in place.

My mouth was open, my muscles screamed, but I was stuck in place purely by the kanima's whooshing tail. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I raised my arm, gun loaded, to take aim at the thing's ridged spine. Jackson's face popped into my mind's eye.

"Derek!" I screamed, bloodcurdling, making the kanima whiz around and fix me with a spitting hiss and display of jagged, almost metallic-capped teeth, that made me shrink back. But my arm stayed up. "Derek!" I screamed again, sending him running towards the thing, growling. That got its attention, and they met in a nosedive.

By the time I had gotten up and sorted the gun out, they had moved the fight to the wide ranged stone pillars that sat side-by-side. It threw fist after fist, until Derek ducked under and dived away. I stood by his side, on impulse. It let out a half-roar half-mewl as Derek kicked up its, flipping in midair, sending it soaring back into the stone wall behind it. Thinking about ways to incapacitate it, I raised the gun and shot two holes into the sides of his head, to which it ducked to the left when I hit the right and vice-versa.

Derek lunged, fist thrown back, and the kanima rushed at me, taking me down with it. The rock behind Derek's fist smashed to pebbles in a smithereen punch. Vee side-stepped the befalling stones; ears dagger-sharp, brows rigged in anger, a fine blonde widow's peak at her forehead, fangs and claws popped out as well as wolf eyes, not glowing, glinting to the surface and overthrowning the green. She growled at the kanima.

I looked up, seeing her hack at the hard scales of its body with her claws, skewering dark blood across the hard floor. Its torso was wide open, hands out, as Vee slashed. The kanima growled, deep-throated and meaningful, before jutting out its head to crack against Vee's jaw. Spinning around, it shot its tail out to smack her in the chest and make her lose her balance.

Derek was by my side, lifting me up, when the thing jumped. In a clawed-grip, Derek lifted up a torn scab of metal, shielding me with his body. My gun lay on the ground, and I eyed it with Vee. The kanima stood up, tall and proud, at full height. Sparks sizzled off its claws, gashing once, twice, thrice, a fourth time and it used both claws in the same direction, repeating the move again, before kicking. Derek knocked into me, elbow pushing me out of danger's way, holding up the metal as a shield. What was it? A car door?

The kanima grabbed it, too, and for the first time, hissed directly in Derek's face. Behind his shoulder, I saw its eyes. Pupils slits and yellow irises, but it had no whites. Instead, outside the yellow orbs of its eyes was an unhealthy orange. Derek growled, gutturally, and jerked the metal forward. The kanima stumbled backwards, into Vee's claws. I heard them break the scales of its back, and sink into the skin. Sputtering, the kanima whipped back its head and tail, crashing into Vee and slipping her high-heeled footing before her claws dug in any further. Derek tossed the metal aside.

Vee grabbed my gun and threw it up, high. I grabbed it, spun it into place, and locked eyes on the kanima, sailing up the stone beam into the lights scattered on top of us. Basing its claws into it, an electrical storm of hot-white light exploded, jitters of small specks burning to the ground.

Derek threw an arm over his eyes, twisting away. Vee snarled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. I looked around, pure white slated over my vision, with my gun still raised high in a double-handed grip. My knuckles were white. Everything was white and sharp and disorienting.

A body hit the floor, then another and the thing's rank breath was wafting over my face. More light washed over me, just as the first screen of it was beginning to fade. I stumbled back, kicking when I fell, hard.

The kanima hissed, the sound roaring, and gunshots splintered the air multiple times. A hand came to rest on top of my shoulder and I crammed the heels of my palms into my eyes, wiping away the light like it was sleep.

I opened my eyes and Chris was still firing, every shot going into the kanima jerking its body to a different angle. When the end of Chris's gun stopped blasting heat and light, I saw him survey the darkness ahead. Derek had taken Vee with him. A good idea. Chris hadn't seen Derek since the night of Peter's death and Gerard didn't need to know Vee was a werewolf, not when Chris wasn't sure, either. He told me he understood from the context of the conversation that night, but he hadn't seen Vee wolfed out.

Chris turned on me, helping me up, and scolded me like an angry father. "What are you doing here, Nora?" He asked, boomingly. "Better yet," Chris yelled, lips skinning back from blinding white teeth. "Why are you here?" He waved the long gun in his hand. "And why didn't you use your gun?" Chris' icy munsell blue eyes cut into mine. He looked different. Wearing a dark blue shirt with a wide collar, opened at the top with the only three buttons unbuttoned, under a hunting jacket with a grey hood. But it wasn't about clothes. His features, roughened but still sharp, were different. The full lips centred between his light stubble weren't thin, the skin of his face not so stretched over the eyes and although there was a glistening sheen of sweat covering his face, all the way down his neck and mortaring his hair to his head, he looked younger, somehow.

I didn't get to answer him. The kanima waited until I opened my mouth to slowly arise up from the bullet wounds leaking out of it. Chris pointed the gun, but was out of bullets. The kanima jumped to deliver a hard dropkick to his chest. When I aimed my grin, the thing grabbed the back of my head in its clawed hand and threw me forward. I did one flip before splatting across Chris's legs, head in his lap. The gun jangled just out of my reach.

Chris was breathing heavily, one hand pulling at my head to make sure I wasn't knocked out. "I'm okay." I groaned. Chris didn't move me, his eyes were narrowed and he was looking beyond into the car's headlights.

One figure eclipsed the left light, and another, hunched and twisted, eclipsed the other. Chris was blinking, unbelieving. He rested his hand on the top of my head, heat from his hand burning the cut on my face.

The figure on the left, Gerard for sure, stood very still against the figure on the right, the kanima. Gerard was only a silhouette, but I saw the shine in his nearly-bald head and the long, thick coat around him was enough to know it was actually him. He stood perfectly still, breathing freely, and meeting the kanima's predatory gaze with ease.

Scott came out of nowhere to rush the thing. He slammed into it, and flung it away. He looked back at Gerard, possibly regretting revealing himself to the old hunter, but was pulled out of the staring contest when the thing hissed and Scott ran.

His shape grew bigger, the lights behind him slivering out from behind his silhouette. Gripping my forearm, Scott helped rise me to my feet, slowly lifting my body up as if animating it from my head to my toes. I looked behind me at Chris, still in pain, at my gun beside him, and the distasteful look on Gerard's face, who raised his head just a little higher when our eyes locked and his nose twitched.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Derek asked Vee, "He didn't even blink when he was faced with the kanima." They were making their way away from the two hunters, fading into the night impossibly fast, following the scentless trail of the black lizard with their ears, listening to it scuttle and hiss.

"Like he knew what to do." Vee supplied.

"He wasn't afraid." Derek agreed. "Like he knew what it was."

"Which is why we shouldn't have left Nora alone with him." Vee said, and saw Derek jerk as if she'd slapped him. "You think they didn't see us? If they know about you and Nora they'll use her to get to you." Derek stopped, clawing his nails—not claws—through his hair, breathing so deeply and so slowly that Vee thought he was having some sort of attack. "We have to go back for her."

"No!"

Vee stepped back, claws popping out on instinct.

Derek's green eyes softened. "We can't. I'd rather she be safe with the Argents, than have that _thing_ still alive—"

"That thing happens to be one of her friends." Vee interjected, smelling his frustration with her. She saw the conflicting emotions play out behind his eyes, twisting his arm to go back with Vee, but then the Alpha in him sparked up, wolf roaring, at the hunt. "Do what you need to make her safe." Vee said, and turned to go back for Nora.

"We're already here." Derek said, waving a hand at the club in the landscape behind him.

"Let's get something straight," Vee said, jabbing her finger in his wide chest. "You may be an Alpha, but you do not get to boss me around. Nora's coming back to me, and if you think there's anything I won't do to make sure nobody stands in the way of that happening, you're dumber than you look, ass—" Derek cocked his head, listening. Vee did the same, only focusing her concentration on her better sense: her nose.

Frosted pineapples and wilting roses. Nora.

"You go find her." Derek said, turning away, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bring her into the club. I'll go find Jackson." They turned away, and despite her arguing, Vee sprang in the opposite direction of the club, following Nora's scent that was quickly becoming stronger.

* * *

Even though Scott had werewolf powers, Stiles somehow managed to sneak up on him and rattle us both.

"Sorry. Sorry." Stiles said. "Did you see where it went?"

"Lost him." Scott said.

"What? You couldn't catch his scent?"

"I don't think he has one."

"All right, any clue where he's going?"

"To kill someone." Scott said, fretfully.

"Ah. That explains the claws and the fangs and all that. Good. Makes perfect sense, now." I rolled my eyes, and Scott looked over his shoulder, shaking his head. "What? C'mon. I'm a hundred and forty seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my _only _defence." Stiles babbled.

"Just shut up." I said.

Stiles pouted, jutting out his bottom lip.

"Just help us find it." Scott growled.

"Not it," Stiles said, game face slipping on, "Jackson."

Scott sighed. "I know. I-I-I know."

"All right, but does he know that?" Stiles asked, making me pinch up my brow. "And did anyone else see him back at the house?"

"I don't think so." I answered. "But he already passed the test, anyway."

"That's just the thing—how did he pass the test?"

"I don't know." Scott pressed.

"Maybe it's like an either/or thing. I mean, Derek said a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom, right? When's the kanima not the kanima?" He asked.

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the nibbling cold start to take effect, adrenaline wearing off. "When it's Jackson."

Scott was leaning over the red brick wall, eyes pointed at the start of the line gathered in the entrance of the neon-lit club, named Jungle. Stiles squeezed his long, slender fingers around my wrist, backing away slowly, precisely. With his other hand he thwarted at the air, "Dude?" He croaked out, staring up. Scott moved away from the pipe he was hugging, coming to stand on the other side of me, eyes glued to the roof of the club with the rest of us. "See that?"

The shadowy swish of a scale-covered tail disappearing with a whispering hiss into the club.

"He's inside." Scott whispered.

Stiles released my hand, and I cupped mine together. "What's he gonna do in there?"

"I know who he's after." Scott said, out of the blue, directing a pointed look at the front of the line.

"What?" Stiles asked. "How? How? Did you smell something?"

The bouncer inspected the fake ID I knew Danny could pass off, all too well. He handed it back to Danny, who slipped inside the glowing powder blue entrance.

"Armani." Scott said, triggering a shiver locked inside me from when Patch tried to describe scents to me, and used Danny for an example.

With no fake IDs, our only other option was getting through back stage. Rounding the red brick building, a door flatted the wall. Stiles tried to juggle it open. "All right, maybe there's like a… like a window we can climb through, or…" Scott hooked his hand around the knob and _pulled_ until it wrenched off. "Some kind a…" Scott handed the knob at Stiles, without looking, peering inside the back room. "…handle we can rip off with supernatural strength." Stiles nodded, catching the closing door. "How did I not think of that one?"

I froze. The only thing I could describe the bond Vee and I shared was a link between our hearts, a silver cord that tied us to each other. Over the past few supernatural-infested months, Vee had gotten the occasional shiver, described as one of those "freaky moments" when she got all cold and the thought of me sprung to mind. I had never had one, myself, so I didn't know what to do when I was on the receiving end of one shaky, cold feeling.

"Nora?" Stiles asked, raising his brows and sucking in his lips. "You comin'?"

I stared into the mouth of the alley, hearing glasses shatter and steps echo. "No." I said. "Go on in, I'll be right behind you." Stiles cocked a brow, but said nothing. "Just put a brick in front of the door."

He did and left inside. I thought the naivety I once had, before learning about the supernatural, had all but left my system. I wasn't the girl I used to be, and knew how to make sure nothing happened to me, usually involving one or two werewolves accompanying me.

The feeling wasn't bad. It didn't make my head spin or my stomach clench. But it wasn't pleasant either, so I grabbed a two-by-four that was placed up against a wall, and dug my fingernails into the greasy-grime that caked the first splintering layer of the wood.

Vee snap, crackle and popped out of the darkness, screaming when I swung the plank over my shoulder.

"It's just me!" She said, plucking the two-by-four out of my hands. "Jeez. Give a girl a warning before you scare her half to death, especially after she ran so fast she felt like her boobs were trying to strangle her to death to come find you." Wheezing, Vee threw the wood behind her, and walked me to the back entrance of the club. "Derek said to bring you inside once I found you." She sucked in a breath.

"Are you taking Derek's orders now?"

"Nora, don't push it." Vee said. "C'mon, we have to find Derek. He followed Jackson all the way in, they're probably locked in a ninja battle as we speak."

Vee kicked the brick out of the door and widened it for me to pass.

Multi-coloured lights spat off an old-fashioned disco ball, glittering streams of red, green and blues every which way. All ahead, guys writhed to the pumping beat of the music. Cut-off corners near the bar and entrance slimmed in population, but a thick square of manly perspiration made up the dance floor. Some half-naked, some fully clothed but almost all of them embracing each other.

Vee looked at me sideways, eyes narrowed slightly. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That Patch would have more fun here than us?"

"Yup." She said, popping the 'p'. Moving in closer to be heard over the music, she said, "Find Derek, and you'll find Jackson."

I shouted back at her, "I'm more interested in Danny. Scott and Stiles think he's the one Jackson's after. Plus without a gun I'm pretty much useless in a fight with Jackson and Derek." A guy with his shirt rucked up to show his torso backed away from us, having overheard.

"Then you find Danny." Vee said. "I'll find Derek."

The music changed into a jumpier, wordless beat and mist floated above us. "No need." I whispered, pointing. Vee followed my finger to the kanima, standing on two feet with its claws upturned, weaving through the legs of the dancers.

Vee grabbed my hand and we thrashed through the thick, cloying man bodies. I was behind her, and she cut through the crowd with screaming demands and swatting slaps. Through the gaps in Vee's hair, I saw Danny was gyrating innocently with a shirtless guy, drink in hand.

"Hey!" Vee screamed, bloody. "Hands off. O-F-F!" She flashed golden wolf eyes and the guy put his hand up. "Unbelievable." She muttered. Even in a gay club, guys hit on her. How was that humanly possible?  
"Nora!"

"I see him."

Unfortunately, seeing him and getting to him were two very separate ordeals. I reached out a hand, busied by a man who was thrown off balance and crashed into my right side.

_Slick_.

Vee shoved the guy off me, tugging at my sleeve.

_Slick._

Dead weights hit the floor, in two successive thuds. I spun around, and Vee's eyes widened. We had gone too far. Danny was about three of four couples away from us, down south. Vee growled and a hiss ensued.

She let go of my hand.

_Slick._

_Slick._

_Slick._

A dark head turned, elbow flying out, and eyes the colour of persimmons flashed in my peripheral vision. Patch. _Slick._ He went down, shoving at the guy in front of him before the paralytic toxin numbed his whole body. A ring formed around me at the scream that elicited from my throat.

Hands now clawing through the bodies, scratching and slapping at skin and cloth alike, until a tattoo sprung to my eye. Angel wings, on a guy's shoulder. I had seen that tattoo before. On Rixon. He frowned down at me, bent over his best friend. "Nora?" He asked, in that swooning Irish accent.

_Slick._

I turned to watch Danny, spasming, fall to the ground in front of me. The kanima spat, opening its perfect seal mouth and showing stitched, black teeth set to points so sharp they could cut glass.

"Rixon!" I called out, and grabbed his hand, placing it over Danny's quickly rising and falling chest. "Take care of him, okay?" I didn't get that chance to see him nod.

Turning to follow Vee's bouncing blonde locks, a pair of eyebrowless glowing red eyes snapped on.

"No, don't!" Scott yelled, close to my ear. I whizzed around, looking for Vee. Derek threw back his elbow, jamming his claws in a quick cleaving of the kanima's stomach—spitting black and dripping scales. Derek let the mist evaporate him, but I saw Vee chasing him, with Rixon standing up looking over her shoulder.

The kanima made such a pained hissing noise, I was surprised that no one saw or heard over the blasting beat. Then, Scott locked eyes with me and a screaming fit began hollering from all corners of the club, music dying out.

Bodies rushed to the exit, forming a ring around the seven dropped kanima victims. The chaos didn't catch up to me, as I followed Scott out to the nearest exit door. He held it open for me, and we hurdled through the parking lot, riddled with tracks of sprayed black blood.

Scott jumped off the small ledge, and I followed, swinging both legs over and hopping, sprinting to catch up with him. The blood was in long ribbons, thick and dark and leading up and up until Scott stopped and I slammed into his back.

Over his shoulder I saw Jackson. His black form, lain over with one arm sticking out of the shadow of the car he was beside. A spittle of blood trickled out from under his arm, but that was nothing compared to the wounds on his naked chest.

Jackson sucked in a breath, eyes still closed, and turned slightly, sputtering.

* * *

Vee left Patch with Rixon, trying hard to ignore the fact she had found him in a gay club. She followed behind Stiles' legs, eating up the distance between them and the black sprittle. Vee stopped and Stiles stared. Scott was roaming his hands over Jackson, not knowing where to touch and what to do. He looked up, desperately pleading with his brown eyes, "What do we do with him now?"

Nora was beside him, fingers tracing his strongly build pecs down to the wound guzzling blood. Her hand came away sticky and red, but Jackson had stopped bleeding.

"Okay, quick," Vee said, "Get him in your Jeep." Scott, inevitably, grabbed his shoulders, making Vee grab his ankles. Blushing furiously, she averted her eyes from his naked groin, knowing how inappropriate that would be with all the blood bandaged to his chest.

Stiles opened the door and it took some work to drape Jackson, awkwardly, over the back seat. Stiles fetched a blanket from his trunk and swept it over Jackson. Scott's ear pricked and he ran for the EMTs, wheeling Danny away. Which meant they were also wheeling Patch. Vee looked at Nora, and she nodded.

They were pumping someone, oxygen?, into Patch's mouth, with Rixon standing over him, brow so creased Vee was surprised it wasn't crumbling.

"Hey." Nora said, Patch's hand slipping into hers. "How are you?"

Patch barked out a laugh, swatting at the EMT. When they left, he said, "Peachy. Did you catch it?"

Vee and Nora shared a look.

"What?" Rixon asked for Patch.

"It's Jackson." Nora confessed. "The kanima—the lizard thing—is Jackson. We've got him, and it's all right." She was spewing the nonsense that people think others want to hear in times of crisis. "Everything's going to be all right and you're fine, right?"

Patch nodded.

"So can you think of anything you could have done to piss off Jackson?" Vee asked, bluntly.

"I was there, mostly for Danny." A tic in Rixon's jaw jumped, and he rubbed it down, like Patch sometimes did. "He got him too, didn't he?" Vee nodded, and she saw the skin of Nora's hand go a little whiter where Patch was holding it. "I must've just been in the way. He didn't get Rixon."

"You and five others." Remarked Vee.

"I reckon," Rixon drawled. "They were all in the way. This thing—this Jackson—must not be a very patient bloke, to go through six people before reaching his target." Rixon spoke with an assured confidence, like he already knew the answer, and wasn't just sharing his opinion.

Either way, both Patch and Nora nodded.

Scott looked over, and Danny was wheeled away. He nudged his head in the direction of the Jeep, and Nora hugged Patch, lightly, before leaving with a curt nod in Rixon's direction.

"We'll talk later." Vee said to Rixon, smiling empathetically at Patch.

"I know that tone." Rixon said, cracking a grin. "Is everything all right?"

Vee looked at Patch, threading her fingers out from Rixon's grasp. "It will be." She said, making sure she'd call later on. The EMTs came and Rixon wasn't allowed to ride in the back with him, Vee overheard, so she rushed up to catch Nora and open the Neon before Rixon asked for a ride. Patch didn't like Rixon, not in that way, at least not anymore. But it was painfully obvious Rixon still had the hots for him, and following him to Jungle just to stalk Danny was outrageously lovesick.

The Neon was behind the Jeep, ready to follow wherever Stiles was leading them to. "You think it was wrong-place-wrong-time?" Nora asked, baring her throat to Vee as she stared out the window.

"You don't?"

Nora turned. "It makes it harder to stop Jackson, doesn't it? If he's just killing randomly."

"But he's not killing." Vee protested. "Not tonight, anyway. He just paralyzed them all, even when he got to Danny. I didn't smell any blood."

"Maybe that's because Derek got to Jackson before he could hurt Danny." Nora said. "I don't know," She added, eyes distant, "There was also something about the way that Gerard handled the kanima."

"Derek mentioned that."

"It was just too weird. Which makes me scared for Jackson." Nora said, startlingly. She wasn't scared they'd find out she was with Derek? "If they know what it is—or Gerard, at least, knows enough to make sure it doesn't hurt him—then they're closer to figuring out it's him. And they might not be as forgiving as Derek."

"Derek didn't claw to wound, he clawed to kill."

Nora gave her a dull look. "If Derek wanted Jackson dead, he'd be dead already. Maybe it was just vengeance for that pool incident."

"Is he that petty?"

Nora's lips quirked. "Aren't all men?"

Before Vee got to call her up on her Rixon innuendo, the Sheriff's cruiser, blinking red and blue lights on and everything, slid into place, boxing in the Jeep.

"Uh-oh." Vee muttered.

"Drive!"

"What?"

"Drive!" Nora repeated.

"What about Scott and Stiles?" Vee asked.

"It's too late for them," Nora pressed, "But you can backtrack. It's clear. Go!" Vee just stared at her. "Vee! Since when are you the responsible one? Stiles can handle his dad, now go!"

Vee put the Neon into back, and pedalled out of the spot until the Neon was facing the highroad. She pressed down harder on the accelerator, skimming the Neon ahead and driving to put away distance between the license plate and the Sheriff before he could the purple paint and noticed it was Vee's car. "What now?" Vee asked.

Nora tapped her phone. "Calling Scott…" She put it on speaker phone, letting the loud rings echo through the Neon. "Scott?" She asked, when he finally picked up.

"Yeah." He answered. "Thanks for leaving us alone with the Sheriff!"

"Sorry." Nora said, "We—I panicked." She corrected, at the dark look Vee shot.

"Nora, I don't know where to go."

"How's it coming?"

"Stiles is just trying to get rid of his dad." Scott said. "It's not going too well." A groan sounded. "That's Jackson. He won't shut up and I'm afraid the Sheriff will see him."

"Punch him." Vee offered.

"What?"

"Knock him out, if he's coming to."

Jackson groaned again, and the whispers of rustling cloth against naked skin sounded. "Wh-What's happening." Jackson asked, groggily.

"Jackson I'm sorry but—" The sound of flesh beating into flesh snapped, and Scott grunting. "Aw. Hey."

"Huh?"

"I punched him." Scott said. "And waved to the Sheriff."

"Nora, where do I go?" Vee asked again, Neon bouncing. "Nora? Nora!"

"Scott? Scott, meet us at the Preserve, okay?" Nora cupped the phone to her chest. "Did you hear that?" She asked, irritated. "The Preserve. Need me to spell it out?"

"Easy." Vee said.

A door opened and closed. "Who's that?" Stiles asked. "Is it Nora and Vee? Thanks for leaving!" He shouted into the phone. "That wasn't hard to explain to my dad, at all."

Scott put the phone on speaker, allowing Nora to apologise. "But what do we do, now?"

"We need to find a place to put him." Scott said. "Safely."

"Uh, what about your house?" Stiles suggested.

"Not with my mom there!" Scott whined. "We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous."

"I still say we just kill him." Stiles said, and Vee could feel him cringing.

"We're not killing him!"

"Argh. Okay. Okay. Nora? Farmhouse?"

"No-can-do." Vee said. "Her mom's leaving in the morning."

"Then…" Stiles voice drifted.

"Stiles?" Vee asked.

"Stiles!" Nora said.

"I got an idea."

"Does it involve breaking the law?" Scott asked.

"By now don't you think that's a given?"

"I was just trying to be optimistic."

"Don't bother." Stiles said.

Scott was behind the wheel of the Jeep when he parked it in the clearing Vee set the Neon in. Nora unfolded her arms from her chest and started towards him. Vee followed.

"Where's Stiles?" She asked.

Scott shrugged, but he didn't need to. Half a beat later, a Beacon County Sheriff's Department prisoner transfer van followed Stiles' Jeep, with Stiles himself driving it. He had a stupidly excited grin on his face, and Vee saw how Nora smiled at him, despite trying to shake it off.

"Dude!" Scott said, getting out of the Jeep and crossing the clearing to stand beside the two girls. "Where the hell…"

Stiles got out of the van. "Don't even ask." He sighed. "Stealing this thing was harder than stealing Coach's phone that one time we tried monitoring your heart beat." Stiles paused, than said, laughing, "Which was surprisingly easy so there really is no contest between the two."

"Stiles!" He flinched at Nora's tone. "Don't you think someone's gonna noticed a massive van missing?"

"I took care of it." Stiles said, "Don't worry, babe." He looked at Vee. Even though the nickname meant nothing than his imitation of Vee, Nora still looked down and Vee could see how her features softened until they melted. Scott noticed too, and gave his best friend a look Vee gave Nora, when she told her how she shot Derek in the back to get on Kate's good side.

He stepped around her and turned.

"So, uh," Vee said, "Who's gonna put pants on him?"

They all looked up at her, quizzically. "What? Where you really going to leave him in the prisoner transfer van naked? Have you no respect?"

Nora smiled. "Luckily, Vee brought her tracksuits."

"From the gym."

Scott was quick to say, "So she should put them on him." Stiles bobbed his head, agreeing.

Vee looked at Nora, eyebrow raised, but Nora shook her head. "Rixon." She reminded her, and the werewolf girl pouted. "We should figure out some fair way to decide who."

"How 'bout rock-paper-scissors?" Stiles said.

Scott faced Stiles and Nora faced Vee. Vee used paper, and Nora used scissors, beating her. Scott used rock and Stiles used scissors, losing. Vee and Stiles faced off, and Stiles used paper and Vee used scissors. Vee barked out a laugh. Scott bit the back of his fist to keep from laughing. Stiles paled.

Nora lifted the Neon's trunk and handed him Vee's sweatpants. "Ah, shut up."

In a high-pitched voice, to keep from laughing, Nora raised her hands and said, "I didn't say anything."

Stiles emerged from the Jeep five minutes later with a green shade to his pale skin. Vee licked her lips. "How'd it go?"

"Let's just say I won't be blaming Lydia for dating Jackson, anymore." Scott punched Stiles shoulder, playfully, and Nora smiled at the display of affection.

"Now we have to chain him up in the van." Stiles said. The four of them dragged Jackson out of the Jeep, Nora holding the door open while the two werewolves got in and out with Jackson's body between them, while Stiles grabbed his blanket and put it back into the Jeep's trunk. Nora led them to the van, in which Stiles took over and opened the door for Vee and Scott to lay Jackson down on a bench.

Stiles showed them how to bolt the chains and lock them, and helped Nora chain Jackson's right wrist when she couldn't get the latch done up, quite right. Vee propped Jackson up on the opposite bench where he could stay semi-comfortable. The inside of the van was all shiny metal, with one long slide of fluorescent light attached to the ceiling. There were four chains, all of which had handcuffs tied to the end. Stiles thought it wasn't necessary to tie his ankles, so the four of them left him with only his hands tied.

* * *

We waited for him to wake up, which must've been hours later because the sun came up and told us all it was Friday. We knew when Jackson was awake, because the second those chains rattled, he screamed bloodcurdlingly, "Stiles! McCall! I'm gonna kill you!"

"I know the chains are keeping _him_ from killing you," I said, "But how are you gonna keep his parents from doing that?"

Stiles slipped a black phone out of the pocket of his hoodie. "I've been texting his parents."

"Ah." Said Vee.

"You guys can go to school, I've got this." Stiles said. "I just need to go get him some food or something."

"Okay." Scott said. "Be careful, man."

"Bye." Vee said.

"Bye." Stiles said.

I smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Vee drove us, graciously, to my house to grab a change of clothing, then we went to hers. Vee eyed Stiles' red hoodie, but said nothing. She snuck in and out of her house in under ten minutes flat with new clothes, and hand scraping the wall of her house, she slid back inside the Neon, crouching.

"What's wrong?" Vee asked.

I looked up from my phone's screen. "Mom left a voicemail."

"So… listen to it."

I put the phone to my ear. My mother's angsty voice shrilled, "Nora? Nora! Answer your phone immediately. I want to know where you are and where you spent the night. At Vee's? If it is, why didn't you tell me? Nora, who are you with? I wanted to say goodbye before I left—" I deleted the voicemail and ignored it.

Vee was silent until she parked the Neon at school and answered her phone. "Yes…? Oh… Isn't Rixon there… Oh, okay, find… Yeah, no problem…" She looked over at me. "No, I won't. Promise… I said I promise, Patch… Gotta go! Bye." She hung up and looked at me. "Patch wants me to rescue him from the hospital. Accelerated healing doesn't bode well with doctors."

"What about school?"

"I'll skip it." Vee said. "Won't be the first time, right?"

"Do you need help?" I asked.

Vee cringed. "Yeah, I promised Patch I wouldn't." I opened my mouth to demand why not. "Just because he, um, still doesn't trust you." I opened my mouth again, but she cut me off. Again. "Nora, don't argue please. Hash it out with him, you're already late for school, anyway."

Sighing, I slammed the car door and marched up the stairs. I heard the Neon pull away as I opened the double doors to the main entrance of the school.

Patch didn't trust me? Okay, sure, I had exhibited some uncharacteristic behaviour with Derek over the past few weeks, but I never hurt anybody. He was collateral damage, nobody meant for him to get paralyzed, not even Jackson. Wrong place, wrong time. But he still had my dad's ring, and refused to give it back. Which at least gave me a reason to talk to him, because I still had his silver chain around my neck.

Allison was walking down the corridor that only led to the principal's office, without a bag. She looked down at me from where she was staring at the newly-installed cameras.

"Cameras?" I asked. "What's Gerard hoping to see, exactly?"

"I don't know, but he was asking me all these questions about Jackson." Allison swallowed. "And he knows I'm lying. He felt my pulse."

"Should I be worried?"

"You should be freaking out." Allison looked behind her shoulder and grabbed mine to steer me away, and into the crowd. "I think he and my dad are onto you and Derek. I just wanted to warn you before they did anything but I overheard them talking about leads. Two names came up, Isaac's and yours."

I stared at her. "Um, thanks for the warning. We have poetry next, right?"

Allison nodded. "With Scott. We have to warn him."

I sat in front of Allison and Scott came in and sat beside me. "Scott." Allison whispered. "Scott!" She stood up and Scott looked at her but looked back at the golden heels clicking into class.

"I'm afraid your teacher was feeling ill, today." Victoria Argent said, making Allison shrink back in her seat. "And had to leave early." She was dressed in an odd flowing dully coloured green dress that cut off just above the knees, with a neckline that went low enough to leave creases under the cleavage. Topped off with her devil red hair swept perfectly and golden dangling earrings. "So, unfortunately, you're stuck with me as a substitute." She leaned back against the desk, painted fingers curled on the wood, and smiled sweetly. "Can anyone catch me up to speed on where we are?" She cocked her head, and with eyes a colourlessly frigid blue, said, "Mr. McCall? How about you?"

Scott dragged his blue ring folder out of his bag, cleared his throat, and started flipping through it.

* * *

"Allison." Victoria said, stopping her on her way out the door after the bell had rung. She smiled at me.

"Can you wait for me outside?" Allison asked. I nodded, eyeing Victoria, who didn't seem to appreciate much that I was going to be only a few paces away from her.

"We've noticed quite a few calls from your phone to the odd one: Stilinski." Victoria said. I planted my back against the wall, holding my notebook to my chest, close enough to the open door to hear everything.

Allison breathed in, deeply. "Oh, you told me to keep an eye on Lydia and, um, he's had a crush on her since third grade, so… I'm gonna have to talk to him." She said. Victoria, from what it sounded like, bought her practiced lie.

I heard Allison start to turn away, but Vicki wasn't done. "I know it's hard. Sitting here. Trying not to look at him." Her chair rolled. "But think of how _strong _it makes you." She added, in a flippant tone, "Especially when all these other girls are just… letting their entire high school lives be defined by some boy they're just praying will take them to senior prom."

Allison said, in a whispering voice, "Can't I be strong and go to prom?"

"Of course." Victoria laughed. "But with someone else." Their voices were closer now, and they were at the doorframe. Before Allison could cross the threshold to meet me, Victoria planted her arm across, hand slapping the white panelling. She threw a look over her shoulder to glare at me. "Remember." She said, dead serious and voice cold as winter. "So long as you stay strong, we won't have to kill a sixteen year old boy." Allison flinched from her. Victoria dropped her arm and Allison practically ran at me.

"Do you think they'd really kill him?" I whispered.

"I don't doubt that if he survived to senior prom with me, he wouldn't be alive because of my parent's lack of trying."

"It seems so far away." I murmured.

"What does?"

"Senior prom." I said. "Two more years."

Allison sighed. "I know what you mean. But until then we still have a friend who's killing people."

"You have a free period or are you going to cut class?"

"Cut class." Allison answered. "You?"

"Free period."

Allison put on a brown coat, a beige scarf and a blue wool hat over her head. I didn't feel cold, especially with Stiles' red hoodie, so I didn't bother. Out in the Preserve, when we reached it, Allison wasn't shivering, and neither was I. The extra clothes wasn't needed.

Stiles had his long, pale fingers wrapped around Jackson's phone. A twig popped under Allison's foot and Stiles looked away. When I reached out to touch his shoulder he dropped to the floor, flailing and squealing.

"Oh my God." He said, grabbing the hood of the van to support himself up.

"They know." Allison said, huffing.

"What?"

"They know Jackson's missing!" Allison declared.

"No. They can't. I've been texting his parents since last night, they don't have a clue." Stiles held up the phone to prove his point.

Allison shook her head. "My grandfather told me his parents went to the police. _They know_."

Stiles looked down at the phone, slowly, and held it up between two fingers, with a noise like a dying whisper out of his mouth. Allison sighed, placing her hands on her hips and Stiles jiggled the phone, the same dying cat noise coming out of his mouth as he handed me the phone.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" I called after him as he rushed to tear open the door and reach inside for the police radio that was still there. Allison and I listened to the crackling commands from outside the door, where Stiles was flung in.

"All available units proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival." Stiles twisted to look at us. "Repeat: Proceed with caution."

Allison was in the passenger seat, Stiles driving, while I was wedged somewhere between the two. Supported by Allison's hands on my shoulders, since Stiles was going to drive erratically and there was no seatbelt, I was beginning to Scarlett Johansson flop-sweat.

"Where are we going?" Allison asked.

Stiles thumb flipped over the phone, tapping away. "Somewhere very far from this." A ringing sounded, and Stiles threw the phone out the window to a dead pile of leaves, driving away.

* * *

Vee had come back from Rixon's with a 7-11 bag full of clothes he lent to Patch. After coming there empty handed last time, Vee got a long speech from Patch about being unprepared she wanted to avoid next time. Scott was skipping class to talk to Danny, apparently, and walked into the room she smelt him in, placing the bags next to a chair she flopped in. Scott nodded at her, then turned back to Danny.

"Are you sure everything's okay between you and Jackson?"

Danny said, "Yeah," Then he smiled and nodded at Vee. "Everything's fine." He was shirtless, and Vee knew why Patch had been so attracted to him. You could grate cheese on his abs.

Scott let his head droop. Danny searched through his leather wallet. "Did the cops have to take my fake ID?" He tossed down the wallet before grabbing his shirt and dropping to sit on the comfy hospital bed.

"You didn't do anything to make him angry?" Scott interrogated.

"How angry?" Danny asked, laughing, showing teeth and dimples. Vee also saw the thin, angry red scratch at the back of his neck where the kanima paralytic venom must have entered his body.

"On a scale of one to ten," Scott said, while Danny pulled the shirt over his head, "With one being kind of irritated and ten wanting to kill you." Vee frowned at Scott, but only got the back of his head. "Violently."

"Jackson's kinda always at a four. But," He shrugged. "We're good." Scott sighed. "I was actually doing him a favour."

"What favour?" Scott pried.

"I was recovering a video for him. I put it on my tablet. Which… is in the truck of my car. And probably still at the club!"

"What was on the video?"

Danny stopped to look at him. "I'm not really supposed to say."

"Danny, what if I told you this could be a matter of life-and-death?" Scott nudged.

"I'm not supposed to say." Danny repeated, with the same stupid stubborn loyalty. Scott sighed, muttering something and Danny flipped through his wallet again.

"What if I told you I could get your fake ID back?"

Danny perched up his eyebrows, and Vee couldn't help herself. She laughed at how easily he succumbed. "Really?" She asked.

Scott slid out the door. Vee saluted Danny, grabbed the clothes bags and headed out, too. Vee saw Scott run into his mom, and only smiled and nodded at her, not too sure if she even knew who Vee was, and tried to not listen as she walked past them at toward Patch's hospital room.

"Finally." Patch complained, sitting up. "What did you go back to school?"

"No." Vee said. "I went to Rixon's to get you clothes. So stop bitching."

Patch frowned. "I wasn't bitch… just give me the clothes."

Vee threw the sacs at him, which he caught before they slapped his head. "I'll wait outside while you get changed." She said, scraping the hospital sheet for privacy.

When Patch was done he pulled back the makeshift curtain, hospital gown in the bag, and walked side-by-side to Vee until they were outside. He drifted off course to toss the gown and bags into the trash before slipping inside the Neon.

"Where to?" She asked, cranking the engine and sputtering out of the Memorial Hospital driveway.

"What?" Patch asked, smile slipping into place and eyes teasingly black.

"Where," Vee said, slowly. "Do. You. Live?"

"Take me back to the industrial place beside Jungle, the club from last night." Patch said. Vee shrugged, remaining as quiet as him through the whole drive there. She was cautious to park the car there, because of the rubble Derek made of that stone pillar. Vee wouldn't want her baby getting a flat. Instead, she pulled up in front of the fence.

"This good?" She asked.

Patch grinned. "It's fine." He slammed the door. "See you round, Vee."

"Patch, wait." He stopped, and turned. He looked so foreign to her with that black hair curling around his hair, long overdue for a haircut, not hidden under his blue ball cap. "Do you know why Jackson would hurt Danny?" Patch feigned confusion, but Vee knew better. "I know that since the breakup, you've been stalking him. If anyone would know why Jackson would be angry at Danny, it would be you. Danny doesn't know, but maybe there's something he missed."

Patch smiled. "You're good."

"Since Nora went to Derek's dark side, we did spent an awful lot of time together." Vee reminded him.

"Time gone to waste?"

Vee looked up. "Not necessarily." She looked back down, avoiding his smirk. "It was you who set me up with Rixon."

"How's that going, by the way?"

Vee, determinedly, met his fathomless eyes. "You're avoiding the question."

Patch grinned. "So are you." Vee sighed, putting the Neon in reverse.

"Goodbye, Patch."

Patch placed his palm onto the hood of the Neon. "No." He said, slightly distorted by the Neon's windshield. "I don't know why Jackson would paralyze Danny." Vee smiled a tiny smile at him, before pulling away.

Her phone began chirping and while she fumbled into her purse for it, she kept one eye on the road. She answered, the caller ID saying it was Scott.

"Yeah?"

"The tablet's gone."

"What?"

"Danny's tablet, that the video was on. It's gone. I think someone broke into his car to get it."

Vee sighed. "What now?"

"Meet me at the Preserve, with the others." He hung up.

* * *

Scott arrived at the spot Stiles left the van at before Vee did. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "If Jackson doesn't remember being the kanima, he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet."

"Why would he steal the thing if he doesn't even know what's on it?" I asked.

"What if someone else took it?" Allison asked.

Stiles threw up his hands. "Then somebody else knows what he is."

"Which could mean someone's protecting him." Scott said.

"Like the bestiary says, the kanima seeks a friend, right?" Allison offered.

"Okay, so, somebody watches Jackson make a video of himself turning into the kanima, then just erases part of it so he wouldn't know? I mean, who would do that?" Stiles asked.

"Somebody who wanted to protect him?" Allison dutifully asked.

"There's something else." Scott said. "You said the only thing you found online about the kanima was that it goes after murderers. What if that's actually true?"

"No, it can't be." Stiles said. "It tried to kill all of us, remember? I don't know about you three but I haven't murdered anybody lately."

"I-I don't think it was actually trying to kill us." Scott said. "Remember," He turned to Allison, "When we were at Isaac's the first night, it just went right by us. Didn't it?"

Allison nodded. "You're right, it just ran off."

"And with you and Allison's dad," Scott said to me, "What did it do?"

"It hit us both."

"Just knocking you out of the way. And it didn't kill you," He said, to Stiles, "In the mechanic's garage."

"Well, yeah, but it tried to kill me and Derek in the pool."

"Did it?"

"It would of. It was waiting for us to come out!" Stiles argued.

"What if it was trying to keep you in?" Scott asked.

Stiles crooned. "Why do I feel so violated all of a sudden?"

"Because, there's something else going on and we don't know what it is." Scott said. "We don't know anything about what's going on with Jackson or why someone's protecting him—"

"Know thy enemy." Allison mumbled. "It's just… something my grandfather said."

"All right, I got it. Kill Jackson. Problem solved." Stiles exclaimed.

"He risked his life for us." Scott said. "Against Peter, you remember that?"

"Yes, but what did we just find out?" Stiles gestured. "He got the Bite from Derek. It's funny how he got exactly what he wanted by supposedly risking his life for us, it's funny."

"Yeah, it doesn't mean he's still not worth saving."

"It's always something with him, though."

"He doesn't know what he'd doing." Scott countered.

"So what?"

"So…. I didn't either!" Scott said and Stiles grunted at the valid argument. "You remember when I almost killed you and Jackson?" Allison nodded slightly. "I had someone to stop me. He has _nobody._"

"That's his own fault." Stiles said, grimly.

Scott snorted. "It doesn't matter. If we can save him, we should try."

"What if we can't?" Allison dared to whisper.

Scott just stared.

"No, she's right." I said. "What if there's nothing we can do to stop him. We can't convince him he's killing people and we can't be there to stop him every time he tries. What are we going to do to make sure he doesn't hurt anybody?"

"Well, for now we can keep him in the van—"

"For now." I mumbled. "Of course. For now. We can't keep him in there forever." Stiles shared a look with Scott, a look that meant he agreed. "And just because he doesn't know what he's doing now doesn't mean he didn't before."

"Before?" Scott asked. "When?"

"When he tortured you and Vee just after he found out you're both werewolves." I countered. "When he got close to Allison just to hurt you, Scott. When he dumped Lydia because he thought he was going to be better than her. When he gave you forty-eight hours to make sure you gave him the Bite, or he'd tell Allison what you were." I listed. "All those times he did those things to you—"

"Still." Scott said, futilely.

"Still what?" Allison asked. "Scott? Oh-Ohmigosh, Scott, what if she's right?"

"I am right!" I exploded. "You're all just too dumb to see it." Stiles flailed. "Except Stiles."

"Would you prefer we'd kill him?" Scott shouted, throwing his arms out.

"It was a lot easier doing that with Derek than trying to save everybody with you." I said, and stormed past them. Vee was making her way over, and I grabbed her shoulder. "Can you take me to Derek?"

She nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Stiles left to see Lydia, Vee left to see Rixon and I left to see Derek, leaving Scott and Allison on Jackson-watch until eight o'clock where we promised we'd all be back.

In the subway station, Derek and Boyd were sparring. I had only seen it once before, but it looked much more brutal with Derek slamming into Boyd as he tried to take him down. The steps didn't creaked, my shoes against them made a slapping sound, which alerted them both.

Boyd stopped his assault and looked up at me, splitting a grin. "Hey, Nora." He wiped a towel across his forehead. "We were just about to take a break." Boyd said slowly, looking at his Alpha's fallen face. Boyd slipped into the abandoned cart, leaving me alone with Derek.

"How is he?" I asked, jutting my chin out to Boyd's direction.

Derek laughed, deep and rich. "He was born to be a werewolf, he's a natural." Derek sat down, squeezing the water out of a bottle and spraying some lightly on his white vest.

"And Isaac and Erica?" I looked around. "Where are they?"

"Cut to the chase, Nora." Derek growled. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to apologize—"

"I don't want your apologies." Derek said, sounding genuinely hurt. His green eyes gave away everything, the hurt, the pain, the betrayal, so he had to look away. "I think you should just leave." He said and his eyebrows collapsed together as I sat down on his knee, stroking his stubbled face.

"I'm on your side." I whispered, putting one arm over his shoulder and the other grazing his stubble with the back of my knuckles. "I'll always be on your side, right there." I tapped his shoulder. "I'm yours." Derek shivered at that, screwing his eyes shut. Keening, he rubbed his cheek harder against my fist. "I stayed with the Argents for you. I told you who would say yes to the Bite. I did everything you asked me to, and if that's not a testament to my loyalty to you, I don't know what is. Hell, I even leave my bedroom window open so you can come in during the night, and leave during the day."

Derek whined, low in his throat, and he pushed me off him.

"I did everything. Everything you asked of me! I can't share my power with you, so what more can I do to show you how much I love—"

"Don't say it." Derek warned, eyes burning. "Please." He said, lower and more broken. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"Just because I didn't feel right about killing Lydia does not mean that I do not love you." Derek winced at the words, and I fall to my knees, spreading his legs to merge into the warmth of his body. He tagged his cheek to mine, arms enveloping in me and he manoeuvred me so that our bodies were pressed intimately against one another, only the thin barrier of clothing between our bearing hearts. "She's not the kanima," I continued, because I couldn't be silent like this, with this oven-heat boiling me from the outside, making its way in. "So it turned out fine."

"When we tested Jackson?" Derek said, more than asked.

"I had no intention of killing him."

Derek snorted. "But you knew we'd have to if he wasn't paralyzed." He paused. "Let me ask you this: If Jackson is your friend, would you kill him?"

"I don't want to." I said. "I don't. I don't want to kill anybody."

"You think I do?"

"Then help. Help find a way to… to… balance out whatever happened to make Jackson this wrong kind of werewolf." I pleaded, sitting up.

Derek pressed a light kiss to my lips, parting them to let his tongue circle mine and run, smoothly, around my teeth. I pressed the flat of my tongue to his canine, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. "Look in the Argent's bestiary for anything." Derek whispered.

"Thank you."

I got up to leave, but Derek's arms tightened. His breath hot on my ear, he said, low and breathy and huskily, "Mating season's not over yet." I could hear the grin in his voice as his erection dug into the pit of my bellybutton. Lips grazing my ear, he said, "It's only the ninth of March. We have loads of time."

"T-To do what?" I quivered.

"For me to take you." Derek said, throatily, and my insides were shining as he peppered my shoulders with kisses.

Vee's Neon came to pick me up outside the subway station. Boyd had overheard us and when Derek went to check on him, he had crawled out of the window to get away from our dirty talk. Derek went on and on about how late at night, he would sneak in through my bedroom. Vee grinned like the Cheshire cat when I opened the door to the car.

"Oh man," She moaned. "Rixon and I sat around playing X-Box and apparently shooting people gets a guy really turned on."

I wrinkled my nose in distance. "Shouldn't that be reason for concern?"

"Nah." Vee said, pulling away from the station. "He totally made up for finding him at Jungle last night."

"He did?" It wasn't my place to pry, or maybe it was as the best friend, but Vee _had_ voiced her opinions on Stiles, Derek and even Matt on multiple occasions. Once wouldn't hurt our friendship, or their relationship, since someone needed to question his sexuality when it came to Patch. "Don't you think it's a little weird how he followed Patch into Jungle?"

"Followed?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think Rixon follows Patch anywhere? It's like when your gay friend asks you to come with him to a gay club just so he doesn't go alone." Vee said, sounding on the defensive side.

"Danny went alone." I pointed out.

"Danny's Danny and Rixon's Rixon. Besides, they were just keeping an eye out for Danny, anyway. Patch got himself paralyzed for him."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt because the guy you're dating likes other guys."

"Nora," Vee said, "Babe, I know what you mean and I hear what you're saying, but everything's all fine and good. Even though Rixon hasn't deflowered me, yet, we did some pretty non-gay making out. Besides, I'm pretty sure if a girl as superhot as Patch came along, I would turn gay for her."

"And Isaac?" I asked.

Vee's eyes went slitty. "What about Isaac?"

I feigned innocence. "Isaac's superhot. And a werewolf. A werewolf's who's superhot and totally into you—"

"Nora!" Vee pronounced my name heavily. "I don't want to talk about Isaac Lahey." She said, so I dropped it. I don't know if it was the Bite, or what, but ever since Isaac joined Derek's pack Vee's denied her attraction for him, in hopes that her dead-end romance with Rixon will take her mind off it. As the best friend I am, I didn't say anything to her, but I knew it was true even if she didn't want to admit it to herself. Her and Rixon were going nowhere, but her and Isaac had a future, not only because they were both werewolves but because they looked at each other the way Scott and Allison look at each other.

Vee sprang out of the car when she saw Stiles' Jeep. She rushed to the van where Jackson was and looked over at me, shaking her head. Stiles and I ran to Scott's mom's car, and I looked away. Allison was in Scott's arms… indecent. Stiles rapped on the window, jerking them both awake. Vee screamed, "You guys might want to take a let at this!"

We gathered at the empty van's flung open doors, chains and handcuffs on the ground.

"I have to tell my father." Allison said, dreading it.

Scott slowly walked away, shuffling leaves with his feet.

"Scott!" Scott sighed. "He's going to kill someone." Allison said, accusatory.

"Okay, tell him." Scott said, swallowing. "Tell him everything."

"Scott, I gotta tell mine, too." Stiles said.

"It's all my fault." Scott half-near growled.

"It's not." Allison persisted, shaking her head. "But we have to tell them, we're just a bunch of teenagers, we can't handle this!"

"You're right." Scott echoed, hollowly. His back was to us, so it was hard to tell his expression, but his face was lacking emotion.

"How are you gonna make your dad believe all this?" Allison asked Stiles.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

Scott turned around, slowly, eyes emanating yellow. "He'll believe me."

In the end, Vee went with Stiles and Scott. Two werewolves are better than one, Stiles said, to which Vee swatted him over the head. Vee took the Neon, so I drove home with Allison. I had a Latin dictionary with me, and was hoping to help her translate some of the bestiary.

Up the Argent resident steps, Allison walked into her dark room and rattled her keys on her desk. She had the digitalized bestiary in her arms, in her laptop. She flicked on the desk lamp, gasping when she saw Lydia sitting on her bed. I threw a hand over my heart, feeling myself shake with her.

"You scared the hell outta me." Allison told her.

"I've been sitting here for an hour, waiting for you." Lydia said, very creepily. Like still, quiet, hands together creepy. She had a white blouse over a black silky thing and her hair was straight and combed out along her shoulders in streams of red, I mean, strawberry blonde.

"I can't hang out right now, Lydia." Allison said, placing her laptop on the desk.

"I don't need anyone to hang out with." Lydia said, pointedly, and then breathed in. "I need someone to talk to."

"Okay, I-I understand that that's important but if it can just wait." Allison nodded. I stood there awkwardly, half-in half-out of her bedroom.

"Why is everyone always telling me to wait?" Lydia asked, getting up and flaunting the back of her hand. "Why can't anyone have right now available?" She crossed her arms over her chest and I felt a pang of sympathy. With all the craziness over her ex-boyfriend, Lydia had been an outcast in the group, and probably more alone than she'd care to admit. I wondered what had been going on with her.

"You can't have everything right now." Allison said, as if she were talking to a child. "Okay? You know what I need?" She began unwrapping her scarf. "I need someone to translate five pages of Archaic Latin. Obviously that's not gonna happen anytime soon."

"I know Archaic Latin." Lydia said, with a small shrug, like it was the most basic thing to know. Ever. Her lipstick-coated mouth twerked up at the corner in a bitter half-smile that didn't reach her eyes or the rest of her face. It was an empty gesture.

Allison creased her brow, lifting one up. "You know Archaic Latin?"

Lydia shrugged, again, as if it was no big deal. "I got bored with Classical Latin."

"Just how smart are you?" I asked, speaking for the first time since seeing Lydia in the room, barely able to hold back a smile that was forcing its way to my lips.

Lydia thrust out her hand, shaking her head, she said, "Just show me the pages."

Half an hour later, Lydia bargained to translate half now, and half later, after her and Allison had talked. Allison agreed and Lydia, surprisingly, didn't ask for anything else. She just translated.

"Are you sure?" Allison asked. "Ms. Morrell said that word means friend, the kanima seeks a friend."

"She was wrong." Lydia said, easily. "It means master."

"The kanima seeks a master." I repeated, dumbly.

"What?" Lydia asked, pushing herself out of Allison's desk chair. "Is that important?"

"Yeah." Allison whispered.

Like me, Allison's eyes were glued to the monitor. "Someone's not protecting him." I said.

"Someone's controlling him." Allison finished, when I couldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: RESTRAINT

Vee's purple Neon bounced down the wide driveway of the Argent's house. I called her after Lydia finished the translation of the kanima in the bestiary. Allison had to lie and say that we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures, Lydia was so confused.

"Oh my God, babe," Vee rambled, as soon as I was in the car, "Scott and Stiles are in _such _a freak show!" She whispered. I felt like cotton had been stuffed inside my ears, and nails were plunged down my throat. Lately, there had just been this numb feeling, like I was on auto-pilot. Derek was keeping me _me_, no matter how it looked. No matter how it seemed like he was changing me, really, he was keeping me sane, keeping me Sunday-girl pure. I wasn't ditching that, despite how many times Erica dressed me up, or how many times I trained with Isaac and Boyd. I was still Nora Grey, a sixteen-year-old girl who, before finding out about the supernatural, had never felt love. Now, I had felt love and lose. And despair.

Still, there was nothing I could do about it. My father's killer was dead, that was a bitter pill I had to swallow and ignore. Jackson was the kanima, his shape reflected by Derek's Bite. There had to be something I could do to help him. Jackson wouldn't die. There was no way I was going to let Derek, or anyone else, either, including the Argents, hurt him. I owed that to him, just like I owed it to Lydia—who I had my eyes set on, to kill. It wasn't fair that the agreement had been for me to kill her, and it wasn't fair I had agreed to kill her.

Whatever mess Scott and Stiles were in, I wouldn't let anything happen to Jackson. Because, all-too-suddenly, I knew why his shape was reflected as a snake with legs and paralyzing claws. Really, it was the only thing I could deduce that would cause _confusion _about his identity. Sure, Jackson didn't know he was the kanima, but Stiles had told him and he still went all lizard-out. So that wasn't it. Jackson didn't know he was the kanima, but Jackson didn't know Jackson. He was adopted. He wasn't a Whittemore.

Between Derek, Scott, Allison, Vee, Stiles and even Lydia, I was pretty sure I was the only one who knew that confusion. I didn't need to be his best friend, Danny, to relate to him. I was possibly the only one who could empathize with his cause for being the kanima. If Jackson had done something to trouble Scott and Stiles, I couldn't hold it against him.

"Jackson's dad, David Whittemore, is a lawyer. Do you know what that means?"

"He can have us all thrown into jail for aiding in kidnapping and stealing police equipment?"

Vee shook her head. "I didn't even think about that!"

"Vee?" I said, more worried. "What? What happened to Stiles and Scott?"

"I only heard that their excuse was that it was a practical joke and the restraining order on Stiles and Scott."

"Restraining order?"

"That's what Jackson filed for."

Vee eyed me.

"Why for only Scott and Stiles though?" I paused. "You, me and Allison were involved, too. Or doesn't he know."

"I wasn't going to give that information up, willingly!" Vee coughed. "As soon as you called, I high-tailed it outta there. Scott's mom was called in—"

"Oh, gosh, Melissa?"

"Ya-huh, and I also heard that Scott's failing two classes. If he can't pass this year, then he'll still be a sophomore."

"Aren't you failing classes, too?"

Vee sputtered. "Only AP Biology."

"Need help studying?"

"I think Scott's the one who needs help." Vee said, slowly. "This was supposed to be over." She grumbled.

"Don't you get it? It'll never be over. You're a creature of the night, now, Vee. A werewolf. An Omega, no less. That means things and people will always come after you."

"And my one shot at a cure is dead. Your boyfriend made sure of that." Vee said, with well-deserved resentment.

I stared out the window. "My dad's killer is dead, if that makes you feel better."

Vee's brow creased. "How do you even know?"

"Deaton." I said in lieu of explanation. "He told me Kate killed him when he got too close to the truth about the fire. Shot him dead to tie up loose ends."

"Oh, babe."

"It's fine, because, you know what? At least we know that she's never coming back. She got what she deserved, I have to give Peter that." I sighed. "Still, if my dad was alive… I bet I'd be a hunter by now, and I'd be keeping that a secret from you."

"At least I wouldn't be a werewolf." Vee said. "None of this would have happened if Peter would have died in that fire."

"Not true. My dad still would have died."

"I meant no supernatural stuff." Vee said.

"Oh."

* * *

Mom knew I was going over to Allison's. She was already in bed when I came home. It was late, too. A little past midnight. Vee's parents were going to give her the grounding of her life. She was just going to tell them she was studying with me. She was going to lie.

That's what most of our conversation with our parents was like, these days. Just lies on top of more lies. I had alienated my mom throughout entering Derek's pack.

She knew something was off, that I was different, but I ignored her.

But it wasn't like I could tell her. I wasn't as brave as Stiles. Even if I had Vee with me to prove that the supernatural world living under us was real, I couldn't bring my mom into it. My dad hadn't, he had kept his hunting life a secret, as far as I knew, so I was going to do the same. She would never find out about the Argents, the werewolves, the kanimas, the Alphas. It was just another thing I couldn't let happen.

Selfishly, I flicked on the kitchen lights. Whatever I was about to do was lost in my head. At the kitchen table, through the open door, I saw _him_ sitting there, reading the paper. His wavy hair was longer, pulled into a low blonde ponytail. Wearing a blue-button down and an ivory blazer.

Harrison Grey, my father.

He folded the paper on the table, and got up, showing khakis. He walked to the stairs and made no noise climbing up. The kitchen lights didn't go as far into the short hallway at the top of the stairs. I was momentarily paralyzed by the sight of him, the breath still in my body.

I raced up the stairs, heading straight for his study, footsteps pounding on the floor.

Heart in my throat, I reached for the doorknob. His hair was bright in the darkness. I turned to see him close the bathroom door behind him, flicking the lock into place.

"Dad!" I cried, jogging down the hall, almost slipping on the rug in my apprehension. "Dad!" I pounded on the door until my fists throbbed. "Please, please, open up." My voice broke into fragments in my throat, cracking and splitting into a whimpering mess.

Tears burned the back of my eyes. I collapsed against the shut door, back to the wall. Not a drop fell from place, even if my vision was swimming.

As if taking pity on me, the door swung open by itself. No lock unlocking or unclicking. It was never there in the first place. Even without light, there was no shadows moving or figure huddled inside. I had to face it. I hallucinated it. There was no other way around it than thinking, I had to get over my dad's death. Finding out Kate was his killer did little to still the curiousness inside me, but it was curiousness that killed my dad in the first place. It was a family curse then, because I had to know what happened the night of my dad's death.

Rising to my feet, I broke the cap of the bottle of iron pills, swallowed some dry and slept with a gun under my pillow. The thought _werefox illusions_ played cruelly through my mind like a broken record, even though I knew Patch would never do something so horrible. Which left me with this: either a werefox I didn't know about was playing with me, or Dabria was back. That was only if I wanted to excuse my psychological issues on the supernatural.

Deep in sleep I vaguely noted the gun being taken out from under my pillow, and a large, burly, dark-haired Alpha stripping to warm me up under the covers. I clung to him, sinking my teeth into his protruding bicep, until, somehow, through Derek's cooing and the neverending tears, sleep was gracious enough to take the pain away.

* * *

Multiple stimuli awoke me. Allison's ringtone was playing on my phone, consistently. Mom was yelling up the stairs that a boy was at the door for me. The quiet murmurs and banging of talk and busying were alive downstairs.

Sweeping my hand out, I caught my hand before it dropped onto the floor. Well, it dropped into my hand when my arm knocked it over and the corner of the nightstand hit the bend of my arm.

Raising it to my ear, I answered with blearly sleep in my eyes. "Hello?" I peeled my eyes open, yawning wildly and missing the warmth of Derek. The window was open. Just once, I wished he'd stay for breakfast.

"Nora?" Allison said. "I've been calling for ages."

"You woke me up." I accused. Placing the phone down on the radiator in the bathroom, speakerphone on, I went about washing my face. "What's up?" I asked, voice muffled by chilling-to-the-bone water streaking down my tear-stained cheeks. I rubbed extra hard at them, making them blush with an all-natural look.

"It's Jackson." I froze. "He's… killed someone else."

Cold adrenaline kept my legs from buckling. I grabbed the phone off its place and shut the door to my room behind me. "What?" I hissed, once we had the disclosure of privacy. "What about his parents? Didn't they take him home after Scott and Stiles were filed for a restraining order."

"He must've gone out of the house without them noticing." Allison vied. "It doesn't matter. The guy he killed was Sean Long."

"What does your dad think about it?"

"I only heard this: he and his wife were in the Preserve in a trailer. His wife, Jessica Bartlett, is pregnant. She's in the hospital right now, but her husband is dead."

"Do you have a point or did you just wake me up to tell me about the bad news?"

"You sound like Vee." Allison censured. "After what Lydia translated, do you think it has something to do with the story about the priest?"

"I didn't read it all."

"Oh."

"What do the guys think?"

"I've already talked to them, but not about this. About who's controlling him. We think it's probably like what happened to Lydia, he doesn't remember killing people and doesn't remember getting rid of the evidence. Except the video. Whoever's controlling him helped him forget that part."

"What does he think, now that Stiles told him the truth?"

"That he's still becoming a werewolf. Since nothing happened to Lydia, being with her delayed the process somehow."

"What are we gonna do about it, now? What can we do?"

"On Monday, we're meeting in the library to talk about it. You should come."

"A-Are you sure about that?"

Allison spoke slowly. "Why not?"

"I'm still with Derek, and you're all still against him giving people the Bite."

"Isn't he done with that?"

"A basic pack needs three Betas."

"But he doesn't just want a basic pack?"

"I'm not sure, anymore. We're having communication issues on that front. Everything about pack, since the kanima, he just won't talk about."

"Does he know it's Jackson?"

"I'm not sure about that either."

"Are you going to tell him?" Allison asked, recurring the memory of what happened with Lydia.

I had thought about telling him last night, but the moment wasn't right. The vulnerability of seeing my dad rendered me… speechless. But I said I wasn't going to let anyone die, especially any of my friends, if I could. Jackson was the kanima. But he wasn't a bad guy, we had established someone was controlling him. Problem was: I didn't know if Derek knew. If he did, he would find out who and kill them. But that wouldn't stop Jackson, would it? He wanted to nip it in the bud. Cut it from the root.

"Not if it means he'll want to kill Jackson." Mom screamed something inaudible through the closed door. "I have to go. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah. No texts though, my parents would just read them."

"And they don't know Jackson is the kanima?"

"No, and I'm not telling them. Just FYI, you're not either." Allison said, as if she couldn't stress that point enough.

"I haven't gone hunting with them since… since the second full moon of February. Of course I won't."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

I placed the phone back down on my night stand, the connection broke. Rubbing my hands through my face, I ripped off my wardrobe what could be considered decent for company, pulled it on without looking, and staggered downstairs (regrettably) without brushing my teeth.

Mom and Lionel turned to see me walk into the kitchen. I grabbed a box of cereal. "Hey," I said, "What are you doing here?"

"Since you weren't answering my calls," Lionel said, "I thought I'd come down here and ask you out in person. That way you can't say no." He grinned. "Especially with your mom here, and all." He was still wearing the Hawaiian cap and Hulk Hogan sunglasses.

"I know a friend who's Hawaiian." I said, absentmindedly.

"Nora?" Mom said. "Don't be rude. Isn't there something you'd like to say to Lionel?"

"A little privacy, mom?"

Mom gave me a _look_, before nodding and leaving us in the kitchen alone. Lionel rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. "So…" He intoned. "What'd you say about tomorrow? Ever play pool?"

"Pool? Yeah. Ever heard of Bo's Arcade?"

"Nah," Lionel smiled. "I was thinking of a place a little further from Beacon Hills."

"Oh, well, um, it's just that—"

"You've got chess club?" Lionel's smile grew. "Studying to do?"

I put my hands on my hips. "Are you calling me boring?"

"Maybe."

"If you came all the way down here just to insult me, the door's right there." My hand flew up, signalling to the door, and he caught it in a hot, balled fist.

Laughing, Lionel watched me struggle out of his grip. "I came to ask you out on a date, Nora, to the Z Pool Hall."

Hand loose by my side, I looked down. "I've sorta got a boyfriend." Heat stung my cheeks. Qualms aside, Derek _was _still my boyfriend, and going out with another guy might not fit right in his mind. Then again, this was Lionel, a packless wolf who stumbled into Hale property.

"Sorta? You don't sound too sure."

"Fine. Pick me up at eight."

"There we go." Lionel clapped his hands together. "That wasn't too hard was it?"

"If you're gonna rub it in…"

"I'm just messing with you, Grey." Winking, he added, before turning his back to leave, "Wear something revealing. Like what you're wearing right now."

I heard Lionel call goodbye to my mom before looking down. I was wearing Erica's sequined skirt and tube top, this time without the fishnets, which only showed more leg. Mom came into the kitchen, taking the cereal to shake some into a bowl she got from the cupboard.

"Did you really have to wear something so—"

I lifted a finger up. "Don't. Even."

* * *

"Babe, calm down." Vee was saying, on the phone, after I had had my breakfast. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? He's a werewolf. A rogue werewolf, none of us know anything about. And he wants to take me out to some pool hall outside of Beacon Hills." I paused, and Vee sighed. "Not to mention he stole my dad's gun from me!"

"You don't know that."

"Derek smelled him in my room and it wasn't there anymore. Coincidence?"

"Maybe!"

"Why are you even defending him?"

"I speak for all wolvenkind," Vee said, "Not all of us are killers. Besides, you said that at dinner his mom said he and his dad would always go out during the full moons hunting. Doesn't that sound like a family bonding experience? The father teaching the son control."

I chewed on my lower lip. "I guess."

"So stop freaking out. When's the date?"

"Tomorrow, eight o'clock."

"Why not today?"

"I postponed it. Said my cat was sick and had to take it to the vet."

"Why?"

"To see what Derek thinks of this."

"Wasn't he the one who told you to get on his good side?"

"Yeah…"

"Then what's the problem?" Vee asked.

I groaned. "I just really don't want to go out with him. There's something off about him. And not that he's a werewolf, it's something more than that. He's just… very unusual."

"Unusual? Explain."

"I can't put my finger on it. I just don't see why he would take my dad's gun."

"Yeah, that does seem a bit weird."

"And I don't have anything to defend myself with! I don't have an infinite array of bullets at my disposal. What else can hurt a werewolf? Wolfsbane. Got next to none of that."

"Next to none?"

"As in: none."

"Why don't you just ask the Argents—"

"They're not abiding to the Code anymore, and after what I did to Leveque and Ulrich, I can't ask them for any favours. Gerard saw me with Scott, and so did Chris. I left the gun with him, that night we fought the kanima. With your healing factor, knives are practically useless."

"Got any more of that pepper spray?"

"No. But Allison might have something that'll help me."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, but I'm sure if I explain the situation to her, she'd help me out. Right?"

"Nora, I don't know…" She coughed, wetly. Not the first time that she did on the conversation either. Maybe she was coming down with some sort of cold. But didn't werewolves evade stuff like that, now. Because of the healing factor.

"Of course, I could just ask Isaac or Erica to come with."

Her voice softened. "Okay, call Allison."

After calling Allison and explaining my dilemma with Lionel, I was seriously considering just asking Isaac or Erica to come with me and keep an eye on the date.

"I use a compound bow." Allison said. "That's so _not _an easy weapon to hide."

"What about that night at Scott's house. You had a crossbow."

"My backpack was big enough to hide it in. Do you have a purse that's big enough to hide a crossbow in?" I was quiet on the other end. "Didn't think so." She muttered. "Look, maybe you should just call off the date. If you're not comfortable enough around him that you feel vulnerable without a weapon, it's not worth it."

"Allison, I need to know what he's doing in Beacon Hills."

"Why does there have to be a reason? Why can't he just be a guy who was forced into moving when his parents got divorced? Not everything is meaningful."

"Because." I said, pointedly. "He's not a guy. He's a werewolf. Derek told me to find out more about him. He's an Omega, he's not in a pack and he's invading Hale territory." That was what Derek said. That was only if he was an Omega, and not in a pack.

"So it's like a pack claiming thing?"

"That's one way to put it."

Allison stayed silent on the other end for a long time. She sighed. "I. I don't know how well you can hide it, but I've seen my dad with this weapon. It's like a long baton but it's electrified. I think you press a button to activate it."

"Yes!" I squealed. "The second full moon in February, I got one of those." I placed the phone down on my futon. Closet door open, cello case aside, the baton was propped up against the hollowed-out back. Grabbing it, I flipped it out into full size. "Yeah." I said, to Allison. "It'll do. Thanks, Ally."

Half an hour later, I had compromised three outfits to which hide the baton in the pantleg.

* * *

Sunday, Lionel came to pick me up fashionably late. At eight forty-seven. Mom was out buying dinner. I scribbled a quick note and tacked it up to the fridge before answering the front door.

Lionel grinned. "Happy to see me?"

I bit back a smartmouth reply. If I had to build trust between us, one way was going romantic. Which, even though Derek was fine with (I had checked), I felt a platonic relationship was more appropriate. Guys and girls could be friends, as long as I made it perfectly clear that friendship was the only thing on the table.

Dodging his question, I closed the door behind me. "Is the Z far?"

"Half an hour drive."

"Great." I plastered a smile on my face. "Should give us time to get to know each other."

Lionel snorted. "We already know each other. I'm your oldest friend." He seized me and wound an arm around my shoulder, cockily, fingers distractedly at the strap of my bra.

Uh-oh.

I walked quicker to his silver-blue Mustang, ducking to open the door. His arm dropped. He went around the curb to get into the driver's seat.

To get any real information from him, I'd have to pull a Marcie Millar. Seducing men for secrets. How hard could it be? A little integrity was lost, but what Derek needed to know, I needed to know. If Lionel was an Omega, he needed to answer to him. If he was in a pack, and a new pack was in Beacon Hills, it meant trouble.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd were out Betas, and they weren't properly trained. As Derek put it, having someone with control in our pack would be a great asset. Lionel's eyes were blue, and so were Derek's before becoming the Alpha. So that must mean he was Born, not Bitten.

Plenty of control for a Born werewolf. They'd been practicing since birth.

Lionel opened his door. I shimmied my jacket lower down my shoulders, the neckline plunging down. A trick Erica taught me for tonight.

She and Isaac promised to be there. Even with the electrified baton, I reckoned it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, they were my Betas, too. And for this mission, they were the muscle. If Lionel got too rowdy because I slipped up, they'd be there to make sure everything went smoothly.

Bottom line was, we wanted Lionel in our pack. If he was already in a pack, Derek said he could meet the Alpha, since Beacon Hills had been Hale territory before.

I smiled over the dashboard at Lionel. The Mustang started up, and rolled directly out of the driveway. "So how long have you and your mom lived in Beacon Hills?"

"I've been here all my life. Born and raised here. After marriage, while my mom was pregnant with me, my dad found this place and they got it. Cheaply."

"Awesome."

"Why did you guys move out of Beacon Hills?"

Lionel raised one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Oh, because of my dad. My mom agreed to move for him when he was offered a place out of Beacon Hills County and in the LAPD."

"Wow, that's like real crime."

Lionel scrunched up his brow. "And what you guys get here, isn't?"

"That's not what I meant. It's just a small town."

"Next to the Preserve. I hear you've had a lot of animal attacks, lately." He looked at my sideways. "That stopped?"

"Yeah. Chris Argent killed the mountain lion in the school parking lot. About a month ago." I nodded. "It's all over." Seeing an entering, I added, "He's a pretty good hunter. You know, before the Argents moved here."

Lionel cleared his throat. "What'd you mean?"

"Small town, like I said. Not a lot to hunt. They used to live in San Fran." I paused. "Sure, we've got the Preserve, but I'm guessing there aren't as many _deer _and _coyote_."

"Yeah, right. Deer and coyote. Venison and… coyote meat."

"They didn't hunt for game." I laughed. "Just for sport."

"Aren't you against that?"

"What makes you think so?"

"You're a smart girl, Nora. It's so obvious. Aren't you worried about endangered species, and all that?" He waved a hand, to show how non-interested he was. To give him credit, he did look bored. But there was a bead of sweat leaking out the line of his cap.

"I'm not against hunting." I shook my head so my curls bounced. "Not at all. My father was a _hunter_. It must be in my genes."

"Really?"

I punched his shoulder, laughing. "Of course not! My father was a hunter, but I would never. He hunted a lot of wolves. And I think they're beautiful creatures, I would never hurt one." I looked him square in the eye. "Ever."

Lionel gave a small smile. "Good to know."

* * *

The Z was, despite what Lionel said, _just_ outside the borderlines of Beacon Hills. I looked down the angled slot he had parked the Mustang into. On the road just out of reach, where the hissing rain was just a blur, a fish-and-chip diner was crammed in with the post office and a few tackle shops.

"Fishing town?"

"Can't you tell?" Lionel replied. Smirking, he said, "On three." I grabbed my door handle. "One, two," He counted, slowly. "Three." He tugged the door open and flew outside, boxing me in. When I yanked my passenger side door, my shirt dropped down my shoulders and icy rain sizzled against the exposed skin there.

Laughing, Lionel grabbed my hand and tugged me under the Z's metal covering. He pulled apart his hunched shoulders. Jogging ahead, he held open the door for me, making a big gesture of it. I didn't know what to do, so I blushed with the attention and stroked my arm, slipping inside covertly.

Lionel followed.

A few men with flannel shirts and work boots were inside, looking bigger and tougher than any I had ever seen in Bo's. The ceiling was low, the walls concrete. A few swimsuit posters jotted the walls here and there, with a muscle car on the front of a calendar at the front desk.

"Maybe you should stay close." Lionel whispered, blowing a few strands of hair in my direct line of vision. "A girl was knifed here, not too long ago. She was from Beacon Hills, too." Marcie. I had heard about it at school.

The corners of my lips twitched. "I'll be fine." I said, displaying nothing if not cool confidence.

I removed my damp jean jacket, tossing it over a folding chair near the front where Lionel had already selected our table. He was leaning on his pool cue, assessing the spread of billiard balls. Lionel shook some water out of his hat.

"That was quick."

"What can I say?" Lionel quirked. "I'm in my element."

Deciding to ignore how high my heart rate was, I leaned in, closer than I had ever been to him, spreading my fingers out on the lip of the pool table. Making sure he could smell my mother's stolen perfume on me, I whispered, lazily, sexily, in his ear, "What makes you think this isn't my… element?"

Lionel barked out a laugh. "I bet the only elements you know are on the periodic table."

I dropped my shoulder, ignoring the unfriendly faces from the people around the vicinity. "I'm very bendy."

"That so? Let's start then." Lionel said. "Grab a cue. Fifty dollar's the fee."

Initially, I had planned to just watch _him_ play. Isaac and Erica weren't here yet, so a quick scan of the building said, which left me with two options: bow out, and look unfavourable in his eyes, or join a game and live his risky, care-free life. The latter would definitely instigate the friendship I needed to gain with him. Still, the logical side of me won over. Pulling a Marcie Millar forgotten, I got out my phone and said, "Actually, if you don't mind, could we wait a little bit?"

"Sure." Lionel said. "But why?"

"Well, I invited a few friends to come play, too, but they're not here yet. Let me see if I can call them." I raised the phone up to my ear, to which Lionel shrugged. The call was disconnected before it started. "Bad reception." I said.

"As much fun as it would be to gain a few extra bucks from your friends," Lionel said, "Why don't we play just us for now?"

I sighed. "Fine. I'd love to." Before I could reach the rack, a short, bald man with wire glasses in a geometrically shaped sweater came up beside Scott. He blended in, wearing a brownish set, complete with steamed trousers and loafers, but that kind of clothes wasn't the expensive-but-trashy-fit-in clothes that Marcie or Patch would get away with. It just managed to look under rich.

"How much?" He asked Lionel, in a voice so quiet I wasn't sure that I heard right.

"Fifty." Lionel said, a tad too touchy. "Like always."

"It's a hundred minimum."

Lionel spun around. "Since when?"

"Since Dew said so."

Lionel went beet red. Jamming his hand in his pocket, he whipped out his wallet and crammed a wad of cash into the man's hand. "There. Fifty now, fifty later." He tried on a dazzling smile to hide the lilt of question in his voice.

The man sighed, tapping his pencil against his cash-carrying hand.

"Dew has been generous. And yet, you still don't return the favour to Dew." The way he said "Dew" made it sound like when a character speaks of themselves in third person. "He's getting restless, Parnell, and he wants his money."

"listen," Lionel palmed the man's shirt, forcing him away, "I'm not the only person who owes Dew."

"Dew's not worried about the others paying him back, your IOU has worn out its worth. He wants the full cash. Now." The man flipped out the cash Lionel gave him, so it fluttered to the pool table in a crumpled fist. "Time's ticking." With that line, he walked off.

"You haven't been in Beacon Hills a month, and you already owe money to Dew?"

He glared at me.

"Okay." Next question. "What's the competition like, here?" I spoke in whispers as I eyed the scattered players. Most were smoking. Even more of them had tribal sleeve tattoos or machinery climbing up their arms, around their necks. I thought I saw a familiar pair of angel wings on a familiar shoulder before Lionel spoke.

"These guys are little league, amateurs. The real competition's down there." His gaze broke off to the corridor that turned off the main area. Through the curtains of beads, there was an ominous orange light. "There, I could make in one game what I could in fifteen, here."

"You need fifty, right?" I patted down my pockets. "I don't have that kind of money on me, now, but if I can find an ATM…" I let him finish the rest in his head. There was a certain lust in his eyes that filled the corners of his mouth with drool, figuratively speaking. I could go as far to say I could hear the little devil whispering louder on his left shoulder, than the whispers of the angel at his right.

"ATM?" Lionel said. "Sure, follow me."

We turned for the entrance. I hadn't counted on him following me. The real plan was to call Erica and Isaac to come get me, but find out where they were first. Lionel wanted proof. Visual proof of the money I promised him. He wasn't at the Z for entertainment. Gambling, just like drinking and drugs, was an addiction.

I threw a look over my shoulder. Bailing on Lionel wouldn't promote trust between us. But I didn't have the money to enter in the Z's bigger competition. Two things happened next. Marcie sauntered up behind a black-haired man, leaned in, and crossed her arms around his leather-clad neck. He turned his cheek, showing me those unmistakable clouded, dark green eyes and that distinguishable black stubble. Derek.

My jaw dangled from my shoelaces, my heart plummeting to meet my intestines.

I walked into Lionel, focusing on the pain of my fingernails digging into my palm. A guy stood in the doorframe, not imposing but he was bulky enough in his red muscle Armani tee to demand our attention. The neckline showed the base of his throat. The skin there was tanned, deformed. A quick surge of déjà vu flashed to the forefront of my mind. The sense to run was overwhelming.

Casually, he slipped a white billiard ball into his hand from one of the tables closest to him. An aura, an otherworldly cloudiness, hung around him. It was undeniable how primal and animalistic he looked. Ears sharper than blades of grass, nose flaring like a tic, eyes slim and narrowed, assessing. They even seemed brighter than humanly possible. Wondered if I had been around too many werewolves to notice, or maybe that being around werewolves had made me perceptible to knowing when I had found one. Tossing it into the air a few times, Lionel swung out his elbow. A guttural sound—raised deep from his throat—skinned his lips back to show blunt, human canines, although the sound was lupine enough.

Movement flashed, and the small white ball went hurtling past us at a simple crank of his arm. A mirror, I didn't notice was there, smashed into hailing pieces.

A handgun materialized in his massive fist. Nails oozed into blackened curvatures. "You," He aimed the gun at the man in the sweater vest, "Give me the money." Flicking his wrist so the barrel of the gun was trained on the man's head. In the shady blue hue of the Z, his eyes twisted royal yellow, and a growl rip-roared from his throat.

Lionel pushed to the front of the crowd that had quickly pooled behind us, "No way, man. That's our money." Agreement rose all around.

The muscle tee werewolf laughed, baring teeth that were sharpening through the notes of his laughter. "Not anymore." He motioned to his gun with claws dripping from his fingers.

"You're outnumbered." Lionel said. "Thirty to one." He was shielding me from the werewolf, but my hand had crept to the side of my leg already, on impulse. Lionel bore his own eyes to the game, royal yellow against the coldness in Lionel's spring blue eyes. "Nobody will let you leave with _our_ money."

"Try and stop me." The gunmen said, with a smile showing flash of fang.

"I'll kill you." Lionel said, quietly savage. "We all will." He corrected.

"I can encourage you to try." His hand shook. "_After_ I get my money!" His eyes were still royally yellow, bursting from the red of his shirt. The shake in his arm lowered the neckline of his shirt a fraction of an inch, but I caught the mark of his throat even clearer. It was shiny, healing, raised.

A scar.

Werewolves could scar?

"Put the gun down." Lionel ordered.

"Aren't you a little young to be barking—"

"Do yourself a favour," Lionel said, more insistent, with an agreement circling the room. "And put the damn gun down!"

The gunmen scratched the back of his neck with his claws. "Alright, get on the pool table." He tapped the side of it with the gun for emphasis.

"If I do, will you put the gun down?"

"No."

"Then no."

He raised the gun to the centre of Lionel's chest. He was brave, even for a werewolf. But as soon as Lionel's hands hit the sky, I knew he was scared. The baton was in my hand, crushed in my palm, and sizzling to life when I saw the minute change in the gunmen's fingering.

Pirouetting (for lack of a better word) to the centre of the mass, baton outstretched, in one fluid move, the black rod shining, I cracked it out to fuddle the gun to the floor. Sparks zoomed in the werewolf's vision. Muscles, like worms, bunched in his skin. He cranked his arm for a punch. I ducked, standing on the handgun for it to not fire.

The man in the sweater vest caught my eye. I kicked the gun under the counter to him, just before the werewolf grabbed the collar of Lionel's shirt. A queasy feeling took over me. Viciously, he thrust Lionel on top of the pool table. Lionel struggled to overpower the werewolf's vicelike grip on his shoulders. The gunmen looked as if he was just about to jump on top of him, claws raking down his knee, tongue flicking out. That was the moment mayhem erupted.

The bald man flipped up the counter for me.

A hand grabbed my wrist. Derek.

"Put that thing away," He hissed. "Come on." I jammed the baton back to its small variation, electricity no longer humming through it. My arm still shook with the aftershocks of the vibration, though, leaving my fingers twitching in Derek's.

"Where are Isaac and Erica?" I shouted, craning my neck to see the huddled mass of the crowd, flesh laying into flesh at every turn.

"I came instead." He yanked open the back door. Patch was there, hair flat around his head from the rain. He caught me in his arms, just as I stumbled from Derek releasing my hand. I felt like a child pulling Patch's waist to mine. And I didn't feel secure if I wasn't touching Derek or Patch.

"You have the Jeep?" Derek asked. Patch nodded.

"Then let's go." Derek said, shutting the door behind him.

"Wait! Lionel." I put in, digging my heels to stop the flow that Patch was guiding, one hand at the small of my back.

"He's a purebred werewolf. First generation. He's fine, trust me." Derek said, a touch of impatience in his voice.

"What about Marcie?" There was a disgusting tone to my voice I was trying to hide, to which Derek spotted and nodded slightly. Understanding, I nodded back. We'd talk about it later. "Aren't you going to get her?"

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with the back of his neck ticking. "Fine. Fine. Patch, take her home. I'll get Marcie and take the Camaro."

So Patch and Derek, my replacement for Isaac and Erica, didn't drive in the same car, at least. That was one thing I knew would never change, despite the dialogue that seemed to span out for more than just this mission of saving Nora. Bitterness flooded my thoughts. I should have stayed home. And so should have Marcie! What right did she have being here, with Derek of all people? _As much as yours, _a voice in my head countered.

Derek disappeared back into the crowd. Remorse for sending him back in there swooped me off my feet. Since when did I think my Alpha boyfriend couldn't handle himself? That same voice said: _Since he shared his power with you_.

I crushed Patch's fingers in my hand so hard that they popped. "Hey!" He cried. "What was that for?"

"Stop speaking to my thoughts."

Patch's smile was all fox.

After stumbling into Patch's Jeep, he was tattooing stretch marks into the road. "I can't believe you just did that."

"What?" Bile was kissing the back of my throat.

"Whipped the gun out of that Silver Hand guy's hand."

"Silver Hand?" Panic. Alarm. Despair. All at once, and much, much too brightly flickered on inside me like a candle lighting up a dark room.

"Didn't you see the branding?"

"On his throat? That was a branding?"

"Silver Hand's doing. That's why Derek wanted to be here himself, tonight." Patch explained. "He wanted to tell you himself, but I guess I'll have to do it."

"Tell me what?" I chattered my teeth together to stop from trembling. The adrenaline rush was dying down so fast my body was jerking awkwardly, seatbelt knocking against the Jeep's interior.

"They're coming, Nora. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon." Patch said, eyes going grim. "The Silver Hand. After Chauncey Langeais, or, as you knew him, Jules, died because of Peter, a successor picked up from where he left off. Chauncey's family started the hunting faction, The Silver Hand." Patch continued.

"After Jules did, there were no living relatives to continue the family business. Chauncey was the last of his bloodline. That's what makes this successor so deadly, his identity is in such deep shadows, no one knows who or what he is. Or even why he took up the position. The how and when are blurry, too, but those aren't the points to stress on." Patch swallowed, mouth dry. "That and the fact that he has his victims branded. Like the branding you saw on that werewolf with the gun."

"Branding like a cow?"

"Hot poker and all, from what I hear. This new successor not only kills werewolves. He has them branded before they're killed so no other hunters can touch them, so they know they're gonna die. To make the hunt last longer. Only the person the successor had hunt down the werewolves to brand, the brander, has joined them all together."

"What do you mean?"

"He's made all The Silver Hand branded werewolves into a pack. And Lionel's part of them."

"No, no way." I cut in. "If that werewolf with the gun has the branding mark, and Lionel does too, they're in the same pack. If they're in the same pack they know each other." I reasoned. "Right?"

Patch shook his head, making the dreading sensation sink to my stomach. "They're kept in the dark about their packmates in case one of them is captured by the successor. But the brander, who's caused a sort of civil war between The Silver Hand, has been made. The successor found out where he is and is coming for him. For us, Nora."

"Back up." I insisted. "Why did this brander make The Silver Hand wolves into a pack?"

"To rise up against this new successor. Not everyone agrees with his methods. He's been branding other werewolves ever since to make his Silver Hand pack larger." Patch said. "And he's coming for Beacon Hills."

"The successor's in Beacon Hills?"

"No," Patch paused. "The brander is. So, The Silver Hand successor is coming for him, here. And for us."

I forced myself to ask. "Us?"

"All the people who were there the night Chauncey died."

"So that includes me, you and Vee?"

Patch shook his head, again, wet drops of grey spitting onto the dashboard from his curling hair. "Scott. Stiles. Allison. Lydia. Jackson." He listed.

"But they didn't even know we were there. Well, except for Scott."

"Do you think that matters to him, Nora?" Patch's eyes were a dark tempest. "The Silver Hand's coming for us all. Bloodthirsty for revenge."

"Chauncey's killer is dead."

"Still." Patch shrugged. "It's not like we didn't have a little to do with his death. If someone you knew was killed by a dead person, and you found out there were others involved, wouldn't you want revenge?"

The situation was a little too perfect. My father's killer, Kate Argent, was dead. I didn't know anyone else who was involved in the murder, but if I knew, would _I_ want _them_ dead? Did I have the right to make that call because of how they ruined my family? Peter seemed to think so.

"When was Derek going to tell me?" It came out a soft whisper.

"There are a lot of things he wants to tell you, but hasn't had the chance to, yet."

"Like what?"

"Other than this? Details about the fire."

Communication issues no more. I was going to have to sit him down, and make him spill the beans on everything. That was it. I'd had enough! We were going to have a long talk the next time I saw him, about meeting up with my friends behind my back, about hunters, about family disasters, all on both sides. We were a couple, and not even acting like one. I was sick of it.

* * *

On Monday, when asked about the date with Lionel, I told different people different lies. To my mom, I said that he ended up cancelling on me. To Allison, I said simply that the date went awful and that we needed to talk about it, soon. To Vee, I said that it was exactly the same as the one we had with Jules and Elliot, and that we had to talk soon, too.

First and foremost, I had to go down to Beacon Hills Railroad Depot to talk with Derek, Isaac and Erica. Boyd never seemed to be present for these pack meetings, but he was still Derek's favourite powerhouse.

In the cart, Derek asked, quietly, "How did it go?"

"We have to talk about it later." I mumbled, equally as incoherent, which didn't do any good. Erica and Isaac weren't as practiced as Derek, but still had all that supernatural hearing that sometimes happened randomly. I bet if they focused hard enough, they could hear my heart beating faster with every worried look Derek gave me. "At length."

He nodded, an officious silent message between us. That added the date I had with Lionel to the list we had to talk about. Among other things. Things dressed in slutty dresses black tube tops stretched down and over their thighs.

Isaac cleared this throat. "So why do we need their help?"

Derek pressed a wide, guiding hand to my back, nudging me ahead. I walked to the front of the cart, listening to their conversation silently, still wondering where Boyd was and what he had to do that was always so important he missed the pack meetings.

"Because it's harder to kill than I thought, and I still don't know who it is." Derek said, stepping out from the subway cart. I turned to look at Isaac, hands lodged in his pockets.

"And they do?"

"They might." Derek said, turning briefly to make sure all three of us were following him. "Which is why I need one of you to get on their good side."

Erica made a humming sound. "Scott or Stiles?" A blue corsage type holster was wound tight around her waist, midriff to show a sliver of stomach above the waistline of her studded-belted dark pants, so low on the neckline the crests of her black bra showed supporting her mountainous cleavage. She wore a leather jacket over it. Matching blue stripes licked out from the tops of her eyes, which added with pink lip-gloss was the only makeup she wore today. As well as gold hoop earrings.

Derek contained a sigh with infinite patience. "Either."

"Why does one of them have to do it?" I asked. "I'm on both of their good sides, as of late maybe not so much, but I could find out what you need fine. Not everything has to be a mission you send your Betas to."

"Our Betas." Derek said with a wide, charming smile. "But I know you wouldn't feel comfortable reporting on everything Scott or Stiles are doing." He paused, lifting the lid of a squared dark wooden box, hinges screeching. "And it doesn't have to be fake either. One of them could genuinely become friends with Scott. Or Stiles."

There wasn't a fibre in my being that didn't know he was lying. I didn't disagree, simply because what he was saying was for my benefit.

"You know the full moon's coming Derek." Isaac reminded, like an annoying woodpecker splitting the same spot over, chunks of splinters flying.

"I'm aware of that." Derek said irritably, nodding as he turned around to face Isaac, only he didn't face him with the tight-lipped, sarcastic smile he gave Erica.

Isaac shared a look with Erica.

The inside of the box looked more like a suitcase. Chains, of all parameters, sizes and shapes, were scoffed inside, looped and linked like an expanse of snakes. Isaac watched, disinterested, as Derek pulled out a set with an attached leather cuffed collar. I wondered, transiently, if Derek had ever had one of those collars wrapped around his neck and chained to a wall, like some battered dog.

Erica leaned inside the box, or suitcase, to drag out a rusty pair of chains with some sort of spieled heading that looked like a metallic headdress, uneven spikes fitting outwards. "Oh my," She said, cheerily with a sunny smile, "These look comfortable."

Derek took them from her, only to let them slink to the heap where the others lay. That made two sets, one for Erica and Isaac. For Boyd, we needed a third. I reached inside the suitcase. Derek beat me to it.

"You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted." Isaac piped up, again.

"There hasn't been time."

"But if you have to lock us up during the full moon," Isaac paused, blinking a lot, "That means… that means you and Nora are alone against the Argents."

Once the third set was pulled out and left in a puddle of looped metal beside the other two, Derek shut the box and wiped one of his hands down on his dark jeans. "They haven't found us." After wiping his left hand on the back of his thigh, he took mine and squeezed affectionately, pulling me along to, presumably, talk alone before school.

"Yet." Isaac said. Derek sighed. We made it just to the foot of the blipped stairs before Isaac said, "So how 'bout we just forget the kanima?"

Derek's patience finally wore thin. I let go of his hand as he whirred around. "We can't!" His voice, smooth around the edges, despite his anger, echoed off the surface of the empty subway. "There was something about the way Gerard looked at it," He said, degrees much calmer and voice much more equilibrated. "He wasn't afraid." Derek looked at the ground. "At all." Eyes locking with Isaac's he continued, "Now, I don't know what he knows or what he's planning, and neither does Nora, anymore, which leaves us at a huge disadvantage. But I'm sure about one thing: we have to find it first."

I don't know why it took me this long to figure out that, in this room, or subway station, I was the only one who knew that Jackson was the kanima. Jackson was there the night we went to Scott's house to kill Lydia, but he made no appearance. How was Derek supposed to know Jackson _was_ the kanima? I couldn't tell him, though. Not if he'd order me to kill him, just like he tried to with Lydia. Keeping my mouth shut would protect Jackson, until Scott and Stiles and Allison and Vee found a way to stop Jackson killing people. Their last plan got Stiles and Scott a restraining order. Here's to inspiration on new ones.

"Okay." Isaac said, taking his hands out of his pockets. "We'll try to make nice with Scott and Stiles."

"Good." Derek nodded. "C'mon, I'll give you all a ride to school."

Erica and Isaac rode in the back seat, which gave me the opportunity to talk to Derek upfront. He started the car, and turned to look at me. "What?" He asked, playfully laughing. "You're staring at me funny."

"Wow, so you're like totally bipolar."

"What?"

"Shouting at the Betas one second, then I give you one look and you act like I rubbed your furry tummy."

Erica snorted. "He has a furry stomach?"

"No." I deadpanned. "Pretty much just rock hard abs." Derek grinned. "Listen, there is something we actually do need to talk about. Remember The Silver Hand?"

"Yeah, of course." Derek's smile was gone. "They sent Jules and Elliot to pose as high school kids to hunt Peter, Vee, Scott and I."

"Who?" Erica asked.

"The blonde exchange student from Kinghorn Prep was Elliot, his friend Jules, you never saw. They were part of a hunting faction and came here when hearing about the Alpha. Almost killed Vee and I, and would have if it weren't for Patch." I explained. Isaac made a "Huh" sound.

"Well?" Derek prompted.

"Turns out, Patch knows a little more about them. Jules was actually Chauncey Langeais." Derek's eyes widened. "I take you heard about him?"

"The last remaining Langeais, meaning The Silver Hand has no leader, now, because his family started the group."

"Right, but wrong. An unknown successor picked up from him. This new one has been branding the werewolves before he hunts them, ahead of time, in some sick psychological thing to make the hunt last longer and play with the werewolf's mind." Derek shivered, as if feeling the biting heat singe a mark on his flesh. "But the person who's been branding the werewolves has gone against the successor and rounded up all the surviving ones with The Silver Hand's mark on them. He's made them into a pack."

"Without an Alpha?" Isaac asked, genuinely interested now. "Is that even possible."

"I suppose." Derek said. "Just look at Scott."

"Patch made it sound like he himself was the leader between the werewolves." I said. "And I guess they do kinda owe him."

"Are the pack in Beacon Hills?" Derek asked.

"I'm not sure. But yesterday, one of The Silver Hand werewolves burst into the Z Pool Hall where Lionel took me, trying to rob the place."

A muscle ticked in Derek's jaw. "I was there, I know this part."

"Did you see the branding on his neck? Patch said that Lionel has one, too, meaning they're from the same pack, only they didn't know each other."

"How?" Erica asked.

"The brander made sure they never met one another, so that no one, besides him, knows who's in his pack."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense." Isaac mumbled. "Won't the successor know who's in the pack because he ordered their branding?"

"No. Patch said he hasn't only rounded up the branded wolves, but has branded more werewolves to make a stronger pack." I explained. "Patch told me the successor found out where the brander is hiding, and it turns out he's hiding in Beacon Hills, which means two things."

Isaac sighed. "More hunters are coming for Beacon Hills."

Erica said, just as grimly, "More deaths."

Derek looked over at me. "Are they coming for you?"

Slowly, I nodded. "And everyone else who was at the school the night Chauncey and Elliot died. Which means, even Scott, Stiles, Allison, Jackson and Lydia. Maybe even you, since, technically, you were there too."

"Vee, Patch," Derek said, "All of them?"

I nodded again.

"Leave Lionel." Derek said, lips so tightly pressed together they lost colour. "Just leave him to fight The Silver Hand with his pack, I don't want you mixed up in any of this."

"Even if I do leave Lionel alone, which I can't now, it won't stop the successor from coming to take revenge on all the rest of us!"

"It just might. Maybe if you find the brander, and offer that information up to the successor as a trade, our lives for his and the other werewolves—"

"Derek!" I was appalled. "Could you really do that?"

"To save you?" Catching himself, he added, "And everyone else? Yes."

"Well, I can't. When The Silver Hand arrives, I'm fighting against them with Lionel."

"You're already mixed with the Argents."

"Who just might help, too."

"No they won't, you're defending werewolves. Why do you even want to help this brander? He's forced The Silver Hand brand on innocent wolves just to make himself stronger."

"Patch agrees with me. I think."

"This guy just wants to lead The Silver Hand himself! Can't you see that, he's opposing this successor and challenging him. It's going to be brander and his werewolves versus the successor and his hunters. A complete bloodbath! We already have a kanima to worry about." Derek said, sounding defeated.

"And hunters of our own." Erica added.

"We don't need more issues." Isaac concluded.

"They're coming for us whether we like it or not." I said.

"Jules died ages ago." Derek said. "Why did it take them so long to want revenge?"

"I don't know." I said. "Maybe they were waiting for an opportunity to leave."

"The brander coming here is just that." Derek said. "By coming here he's put everyone's lives at stake."

"If I figure out who the brander is, with Patch, do you think the successor will leave The Silver Hand pack?"

"Maybe."

"Then that's what I'll do." I said. Before he had time to argue, "Now that that's over, why don't we talk about what you were doing at the Z with Marcie?"

Erica smiled lewdly, enjoying the drama. "Simple explanation." Derek said. "I want to Bite her."

"To change her into a werewolf?" My voice was hysteric. Derek nodded. "You can't do that!"

"Why not? Because of the silly feud between you two? Maybe her getting the Bite will end that."

"Her father is big in Beacon Hills. He's a powerful man."

"He won't ever find out." Derek said. "I'm sure of it."

"Why Marcie?" I challenged. "She's not epileptic, like Erica was." She flinched, but I carried on. "She's not being abused, like Isaac was, and she's not overweight or lonely like Boyd was. There's nothing about her that the Bite could solve, so what makes you think she'll say yes to you?"

"She wants power." Derek said. "Simple."

"Nothing's ever simple with Marcie Millar."

"We need the extra help. Lionel's with his own pack, and Marcie's strong. I know she'll survive the Bite if she says yes. We need the extra fire power, with the kanima, and now, with the possibility of a fight with The Silver Hand hunters."

"There are plenty of other strong, popular people in Beacon Hills, why does it have to be Marcie?"

"If Marcie says yes, all those other popular kids, like Addyson Hall, Oakley Williams and Keith Tyler, will all say yes." I was dumbfounded, flabbergasted. For how long had he really been planning this?

"But those people don't _need_ the Bite, not like Erica, Isaac and Boyd! I chose them—"

"It's not your decision anymore who I Bite." Derek said. He rolled the Camaro to a stop in the school's parking lot. "You can't stop me from persuading Marcie to take the Bite."

"Fine." I ground my teeth together, pulsing all the anger I had within. I shot Erica and Isaac a look. They both fumbled out of the car, quickly scooping up their backpacks and walking up the steps to the school.

I reached across the dashboard, "Derek, I need to tell you something."

* * *

On my way to the library to meet Allison, Scott and Stiles, I ran into a familiar face. Damn. Must've said her name too many times in Derek's Camaro.

"Just so you know," Marcie said, deliberately stepping into my path so I couldn't walk around or ignore her. "I'm sending out a text after class to everyone who's invited to my vernal equinox party. You made the cut, congrats. Oh, and missing it is the surest way to kill your social life. Not that you _can_ kill something that was never alive."

"Vernal equinox?"

"When the sun begins to cross the celestial equator…" Marcie drifted off, letting a question hang in the air, there, to ask me if I knew or not. My IQ was double hers, of course I knew. What I didn't know was why I was being invited. She was dumb, sure, but she wasn't that dumb to not notice how we hated each other.

"Wow, Marcie, any reason to party, huh?" I let just a note of cynicism creep into my voice

"I can't tell if you're making fun of me or being serious, so I'll let that slide. It's next Friday."

"That equinox can be from March nineteenth to March twenty-second. Next Friday is… the twenty fourth."

"So?" She took out a makeup compact, which had pressed a circle into the front pocket of her jeans, and dabbed pressed powder onto her freckle-less nose.

"Never mind." I said, moving around her. "I'll try to make it." I wouldn't.

"I saw you last night." Marcie shouted, stopping me. My heart beat spiked up. "At the Z."

I turned around, slowly. "I saw you, too."

"Are you mad that I went with Derek?"

"Why would I be?"

"Aren't you a thing?"

"Do you even care?" My voice was a cool warning to not push it, hands behind my back trembling.

"He took me home after that guy with the glowing eyes rammed a pool cue into the table." Marcie looked like she had too many questions in her head and had to let them pop out, before her bottle head exploded. "Do you think he wore contacts? And how was he that strong, steroids? Aren't pool tables made of slate, or something? Who was that cute guy you were with? Does being with him mean that you and Derek broke up?"

"I have to go." The library entrance was straight ahead. She could've followed me, if she wanted to. She didn't. Marcie had seen everything, which meant she had probably seen the stunt with the electrified baton. Either she chose not to pursue that, or didn't see. I was hoping, desperately, for the latter. Not that I cared what she thought. Although she did have the social power to destroy me.

The library was white-walled but stacked, liberally, with all sorts of decorations. Book shelves lined the left half of the room, row by row with fiction and non-fiction, carts full up of books were scattered around, too. The right half of the room had studying tables.

Allison had her black mess of curls pinned up by a clasp. A silky white camisole that had a frilly midriff hung off her back. Her skirt, low hanging and see-through pink, made a V at her lower thighs. She turned to look at the camera behind, saw me, and smiled. Once I got closer, I could see that her skirt was actually a dress with pink straps hooked over her shoulders. The shirt was actually a layered cream-coloured midriff sweater. Black pantyhose and grey high heels, with a brown leather saddle bag at her shoulder.

We walked to the science shelves, slowly. "Wanna talk about the date?"

I shook my head. I'd tell her and Vee, soon. In private. My worry was Scott and Stiles' reactions. We all had too much on our plates to worry about the hunting faction that may or may not come for us. Patch seemed to think they would definitely, come. So I'd let him worry about it. We were going to figure out who was the brander, after we sorted the kanima issue and, I believed, only after the kanima killings were done were The Silver Hand coming. If they were waiting to make their move, they wouldn't come when a black-scaled shapeshifter with paralytic claws was attacking.

"Later." I whispered, back.

Around the shelf, Allison reached into her bag and took out a square black object. A tablet. Danny's tablet? I saw a hand clad in a blue and white stripped sleeve reach out to take it. Scott.

Stiles was flipping through a brown book.

"It's everything Lydia can translate, and trust me, she was very confused." Allison looked around, discretely.

"Yeah, what'd you tell her?" Scott ask-whispered, both of them looking through the gaps in the shelf at us, making it obvious we were talking. They didn't get the discretion of meeting at the library, through the shelves.

"That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." Allison had her back to them, but I could see how bizarre she thought it was through her expression.

Scott snorted. Stiles deadpanned, "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." Scott nodded when Stiles looked at him, then back at us. He was chewing his lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh." Allison said. "Great."

Stiles gave her a genuine, serious smile that gave his voice a very odd look. He tried to catch our eye over the top of Scott's ruffled dark hair, but we both looked down. Vee appeared beside Stiles, and nodded to both of us behind the shelf.

Scott asked, "Does it say how to find out who's controlling him?"

"Not really." Allison said. "But Stiles is right about the murders."

Stiles punched the air. "Yes!"

"It calls the kanima," Allison continued, deciding to ignore Stiles' geeky outburst, "A weapon of vengeance. There's a story in there about a South American priest," She looked behind her, swallowed dryly, "Who uses the kanima to execute murderers in his village."

"All right, see, so maybe it's not all that bad." Stiles reasoned.

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to." Allison whispered, slipping a book off the shelf above her.

"All bad." Stiles open-mouthed.

"All very, very bad." Vee added.

"Here's the thing, though," Allison said, book open in her hands. I leaned against the shelf, opposite her, keeping an eye on the camera. "The kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf, but it can't be until—" A woman in a bright purple shirt walked by to slot a book on the shelf. I gave a raise of my eyebrows to Allison. She shut her mouth, looking behind her.

"Not until it resolves that in its past which manifested it." Scott read.

"Okay, that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could have told you that myself." Stiles said.

Allison drew in a breath. "What if…" She said, then whispered, "What if it has something to do with his parents?" Allison and Scott both looked up, meeting their eyes. "His real parents."

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?" Scott asked, looking around at Vee, weirdly.

"Lydia might." Stiles said.

"Danny might, too." I tossed in.

"What if they don't know anything?" Scott asked.

"Well, he doesn't have a restraining order against me, so," She slid the book back into its rightful place on the shelf above her, looking covertly to the left, at the camera, "I'll talk to him, myself."

"What do Vee and I do?" Scott asked.

"You have a makeup exam, remember?"

Scott looked to Stiles, who nodded solemnly.

In the stack, where Scott had his hand, Allison curled hers over his fingers, and said, "Promise me." Scott reached out to grab her fingers, rolling them between his to have them against his palm.

"At least take Vee with you." I said.

"No can do." Vee said. "I know no one trust Jackson right now, but I'm gonna go talk to Patch, see if he knows anything. Somehow, he always does seem to know _something_ relevant."

Scott sighed. "Fine. But if he does anything you run the other way."

Allison's automatic reply came, "I can take care of myself."

Scott imposed himself through the gap, sticking his tan face sideways to demand her attention, raising his voice a few octaves, "Allison, if you get hurt while I'm busy with some stupid test, someone's gonna need taking care of me." Stiles and Vee and I were pretending to not listen, busying ourselves with our phones, the books in our hands, the camera overhead and other people around. "If he does anything."

"Like?" Allison shrugged.

"Anything weird, bizarre, anything."

Stiles stuck his head through the gap, coming out on the other side, voice gravelly, "Anything evil!" He nodded.

Amused, Allison put her palm to his nose in the same exact moment Vee grabbed the back of his shirt. Allison pushed forward, Vee pulled him back. Flailing, Stiles juggled the book until he laid it flat on his chest, pages rumpled, looking to see if a librarian was giving us the stinkeye.

* * *

I waited outside Danny's first period class, doodling in a notebook like I had seen Vee do a thousand times when waiting outside class, or by my locker, for me. It was just what you did when you waited for someone.

The bell had just gone, and the buzzing sounds inside the classroom of students packing up filled the air. Danny was one of the first people to leave, including Addyson, which reminded me of Derek's power trip and left me stunned outside the class.

Danny threw a look over his shoulder, a worry line creasing his forehead. "Nora? You okay?"

Getting my bearings, I strode forward and delivered the speech I had practiced outside. Knowing Danny was as stubborn as he was loyal, there was no way he was going to tell me what he knew about Jackson's real parents, if he knew anything, which, in my guess, he did. I hadn't told Vee about the divorce and adoption papers I had found, but Jackson and I were completely different people.

"Hey, Danny, I was just wondering if you knew anything about Jackson's real parents." My voice was monotone, flat, and it stirred Danny's eyebrows, so I spiced in some emotion, "Well, you see, Ms. Morrell asked me if I knew anything and I said no. She thinks that Jackson could use some, um…"

"Guidance counselling?"

"Exactly." I said. "But I can't seem to find Jackson, I thought he had first period with you."

"He does, but he didn't come. He wanted to talk about his grades with his History professor, Mr. Westover, I think." Danny said, clicking open his locker. He stuffed a fat textbook inside and brought out the next one for his proceeding class.

"Can I just ask you then? I really wouldn't be prying into his personal life, behind his back, if I hadn't been asked by Ms. Morrell. She thinks he could really use some therapy."

"It doesn't matter." Danny said. "Jackson would never go."

"You don't know that." I said. "Let Ms. Morrell be the judge of that."

"I don't want to tell you what I know because he's my best friend." So he did know something. "If the situation was reversed," He rolled his backpack off his shoulder, switching, "And it was me asking about Vee, would you tell me?"

My answer wasn't faked, it was reflexive. "If it was something this important, I would, yes."

Danny sighed. He took a long time to answer, looking over both his shoulder like Allison did, to check if any cameras were around or if any students were overhearing. I wasn't aware of the gossip vine, but Marcie would definitely be part of the chain, if there ever was one in BHHS. "I'll make you a deal." He said. I bounced on the balls of my feet, cracking a smile that said _sure. _"If you tell me who that guy was that Patch was dancing with at Jungle, I'll tell you a little of what I know."

I contemplated his. "How much is a little?"

Danny said, "It's a pretty short story…"

"Fine. The guy Patch was dancing with is his—"

"Babe!" Vee screamed, nails digging into my wrist. "We have to _go_. Now!" She leaned in and whispered, "Erica just told Stiles Jackson's real parents are dead."

"Danny, bargain's off." I shrugged. "Sorry. I hope you and Patch make up soon, but I can't be involved."

Vee dragged me halfway down the corridor before I asked, "Can you find them? By scent?"

"Of course." Vee raised an indifferent shoulder. A vicious string of throaty coughs exploded out of her. Balled fist over her mouth, she cleared her throat and swallowed, wincing.

"Vee, are you sick?"

"I don't think werewolves can get sick." Vee said. The second set of coughs was wetter, phlegm bubbling up to the surface. "Can they?" She rasped. Her eyes had been closed through the painful sounding coughs. When she opened them, I gasped.

"Vee, close your eyes!" I hissed. She did, without hesitating.

"What? What, babe, what's happening?"

I took her elbow and steered her down to the girl's locker room, the closest place that was probably empty this early. "It's your eyes," I said, as we marched through the crowd and turned left. I kicked down the door. "They're glowing."

A girl screamed when the door hit the wall. Giving us both dirty looks, she ran out the door, clutching her sports bra to her clothed chest.

"You can open them now." I said.

Vee did, and they were still bright werewolf gold. "Holy freak show." Vee said. "I didn't even feel a Shift coming on." She raised her claw-tipped hand, bending her wrist so the claws touched the vein in the inside of her arm. "Do you see that?"

"Claws, eyes… Show me your teeth."

When Vee opened her mouth, her canines were sprouting up, singing to sharpened points. "And fangs. Vee, stop this. Get in control. Use your anchor."

Nodding, Vee closed her eyes, fists balled and trembling. Her claws didn't slice through her skin, though. But she did keep shaking, like that helped her concentrate.

Seeing that she was getting nowhere, I touched her shoulder. "Think about the first time Peter sank his fangs into your side." Vee chewed on her bottom lip. "How you saw him rush out to leave, galloping on all fours like the animal he was." I boasted. "His savage killings, all that bloodshed."

Vee's eyes sprang open, iridescently gold, "That's not helping!" She whined, sounding on the verge of tears. "Oh my god, oh my god, Nora! What am I going to do? Say I wore contact lenses today?"

"Do you have a compact in your purse?" I asked.

"I think so… why?"

I rummaged through it. "Maybe if you can see yourself, you can force all your features back to normal." My hand slipped across a small pouch compartment at the front of her purse. Cold brushed my fingertips, smooth and metallic. Vee watched my fingers curl around it and pull it out. "Is this… a bullet?" I raised the bullet up to the light, holding it by the rim so the casing of the bullet glittered in the light.

"There's something in it." Vee said. "It's making me Shift."

"How can you tell?"

"Before, because it was in my things I couldn't smell it. But now I can." Vee said. "Crack the top."

Gingerly, I wound my palm on the tip of the bullet and bent until the sharp point dug into my flesh. The crack sounded and I jostled the casing away from the bullet. Vee was right. Inside, there was some sort of colourless white chemical that wobbled in my grasp.

Vee's eyes flashed to green, and she grit her teeth until her jaw popped back, no longer housing the dangerous canines. The widow's peak and sideburns hadn't grown, which only left the claws oozing back into transparent nails instead of sharp black talons.

I clipped back the bullet over the casing. "I'll take it to Deaton." I said, slipping the bullet into my pocket. "See if he can analyse it." But I had a growling feeling that whoever planted the bullet in Vee's purse wanted her to get caught. Someone like the brander, who wanted to offer Vee protection as a werewolf and add her to his pack. Or maybe The Silver Hand had arrived earlier than expected.

I was so lucky to not get to dwell on paranoid thoughts.

Vee rushed out the room, ears pricked up. "C'mon, babe! Scott and Jackson are fighting!" I noticed, specifically, how she said "Jackson" and not "the kanima". It meant less alarm. However, I doubted it was going to be a mere fistfight, and hastened my pace to match Vee's. Fortunately, we were just beside the boy's locker room, so we didn't have to run very far to see the water pooling out of the crevice at the bottom of the boy's locker room door.

Stiles and Erica were talking, there, in the middle of the hallway. It felt like we had stumbled into a pretty private conversation. Neither of us dared to look away, though.

"And just because you got the Alpha Bite makeover, doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

"Why not?" Erica demanded, her blonde curls spilling down her black leather jacket's back. "That's all anybody ever used to do to me. I used to have the worst crush in the world on you." She gave a sigh of laughter. "Yeah, you Stiles. And you never once, noticed me." Stiles' cheekbone tilted so he was staring at the water. "Exactly how you're not noticing me right now." She said, breaking her emotion-filled voice to her bubbly, singsong one, to try to brush past it. Stiles pointed and Erica turned, seeing us first, but then tracking the water, slowly, with her eyes.

Unexpectedly, Scott landed flat on his back as the blue door swung open. Jackson reached out to lace his hands around Scott's neck. Stiles and I dropped our backpacks and ran inside. Vee's purse was already on the floor, and Erica didn't even have one. We pulled them apart, Vee shoving Jackson into Erica's arms in perfect tandem.

Vee grabbed the back of Scott's shirt, lifting her hand to circle his shoulder. Erica had her elbow hooked around Jackson's neck, her other arm across his shoulder to snag his shoulder. Jackson was naked, except for a pair of baggy, athletic, burgundy Cyclone lacrosse shorts. Erica flattened him against the wall as Mr. Harris walked up to us.

Stiles was hanging by Scott, calming him with his words. Vee had an iron strong grip on him, leaving me as collateral damage control. Allison was visibly rattled. I smoothed down her hair and tilted her chin up. She smiled, emotionlessly, at me, wiping my hand away. Her pulse, which I skimmed my fingertips over, was erratic.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" Mr. Harris boomed. "Jackson! Calm down." I looked up, standing beside Allison. "Mr McCall, you wanna explain yourself? Mr Stilinski? Miss Sky?"

Matt said, "You dropped this," Sticking out the black tablet for Mr. Harris to snatch off him.

"You and you," He said, feet wide apart to avoid the water, pointing the tablet at Jackson and Scott. Erica had let go of him, folded her arms over her chest. Getting a better idea, Mr. Harris shook the tablet in his hand. "Actually, all of you," He made a circle around all of us, ending with Matt, who shook out his arms and made a silent O with his mouth, "Detention. Three o'clock."

* * *

At the end of the day, Mr Harris was waiting in the library for us all to file in, one by one. He had his jean-clad legs inappropriately apart, with a bag on his shoulder.

Scott, Stiles, Vee, Allison, I, Matt, Jackson and Erica all walked in.

Mr. Harris pointed. We all ignored him. I sat on the table closest to me, tucking my backpack at the leg of the chair. Erica walked around me, placing her red binder on the table before taking the seat next to me, with a grin. Scott and Stiles took out opposite seats.

Vee scowled, sitting on the empty table when Allison, Jackson and Matt took the other table.

"We can't be in detention together." Jackson said. "I have a restraining order against these tools."

"All these tools?" Mr. Harris asked. But he was the only tool in the room. The tool that gave Kate Argent the info she needed to get away with arson. No. Murder.

"No, just us tools." Stiles waved his fingers between him and Scott.

"Fine." Mr. Harris said. "You two, over there."

Scott and Stiles sat on Vee's table. Smirking, when Mr. Harris turned his back, she shrugged and moved back on mine and Erica's table.

"Erica," I said, "What can you tell us about Jackson's parents?" I asked. "How did you know they were dead?"

Erica pondered this for a while, before scrunching up her brows and saying, uncharacteristically serious, "You knew." She laughed, silently, bitterly. "This whole time you know that Jackson was the kanima, even after he passed the test, and you didn't tell Derek." She leaned into her chair, cocking her head. Something flickered in those dark brown eyes, real emotion, before she covered it up again. Her voice betrayed her. "You didn't tell _me_." She used an accusatory tone, but the sadness and betrayal swelled up in her voice and she glared at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Vee interjected. "Okay, listen up, Erica." Vee pointed at me. "Get over her, okay? Because I was her blonde bitch way before you ever got the Bite from Derek."

Erica cocked a brow, appreciating the validity of whatever Vee said. Showing genuine respect, Erica shrugged. "I know because of my father. He—"

Jackson got up, rubbing his temple and wincing. "I have to go to the bathroom." Erica opened her folder, flipped to a clean page in her notebook and began doodling.

"Hey, you alright?" Mr. Harris rose. "Hey, you don't look so good."

Even Erica watched him leave, even if she looked bored. "I just need to get some water." Jackson said.

"No one leaves their seats." Mr. Harris said, flashing his hands, before following Jackson outside.

Scott and Stiles dashed and wrestled for the last seat next to Vee. Scott got there first, and scraped the chair inward. Stiles made a gargled noise and stood very near my hair, breathing down my throat hotly. "Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died." Scott said.

"Maybe." Erica said, shortly.

"Talk." Scott said, throwing his hands out.

Erica folded down her book, pen on top. "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator, and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge set of money he'll be getting when he's eighteen."

"So not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?" Stiles asked.

Smirking, Erica said, "Yup."

"There's something so deeply wrong with that."

"You know what?" Erica lifted the lid of her pink laptop, removing her notebook and pen off the top. "I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox. He keeps everything." While typing, I saw Erica's nails flashing blue, matching her dress and makeup. Classy girl.

"Scott McCall," Victoria Argent said, through the speakers, "please report to the principal's office."

Scott left, and Stiles took his seat. Jackson walked back inside the library with Mr. Harris, but we barely even noticed. Erica was pulling up all the files from Jackson's parent's death.

"Wow, look at the dates." I said. Stiles craned his neck, twisted his body, to get a better view. Erica slid the laptop across, angling the screen to not get any glare and so all four of us could see it.

Erica read out loud, regardless, "Passengers arrived to the hospital, DOA. The estimated time of death: nine twenty-six PM, June fourteenth nineteen ninety-five."

"Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth." Stiles looked at Erica, and raised his eyebrows.

Mr. Harris zipped up his laptop case, slowly, eyes never leaving us, watching like a hawk with too much time on his hands. We started to pack up, too.

He walked around the counter, waiting for us all to stand up before laughing, showing ugly teeth, "Oh, I'm sorry." He laughed some more. "Yes. I'm leaving, but none of you are." Stiles slowly lowered his ass back onto the seat. "You may go when you are done with the re-shelving." He patted the books on the carts either side of him. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"He's a sad, sad man." Vee scolded.

* * *

Scott came back, and we huddled between the shelves to talk. "It means he was born after his mom died." Stiles answered Scott. "By C-Section. They had to pull him out of her dead body."

Erica passed by. I wanted to follow her. It felt wrong to just leave her there, by herself, after helping us out the way she did, even if it was to get on Stiles' good graces. It still meant more than the bubbly, seductive, singsong airhead she was pretending to be.

"So was it an accident or not?" Allison wondered out loud.

Stiles shrugged.

"The word all over the report is inconclusive." Vee said.

"But his parents could have been murdered?" Scott asked.

Stiles nodded. "If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth." I said. Allison nodded. "You know? It seeks out, and kills murderers."

"But for Jackson or for the person controlling him?" Allison asked.

"Million dollar question." Vee mumbled.

"We have to talk to him." Scott said. "We have to tell him."

"He's not gonna—" Allison began, leaning over the cart full of books. I followed Scott out of the shelves into the open. An open book lay on the ground, white against the grey carpet. We walked slowly towards it. Déjà vu flashed in my mind. Jackson and I walked slowly towards the dead body we found at the video store place. How could I let Derek kill him? After everything.

We turned, simultaneously, to see Matt sprawled out on the grey carpet, lifeless. A red line zipped through the back of his neck. Scott dropped to check his pulse. "He's paralyzed." I said, before something crashed overhead, like rocks banging together. Glass and sparks and books tumbled to the floor, and Scott huddled me under him, arm out like a wing. I looked up, whimpered accidentally, and saw Scott's glowing yellow eyes and sprouted fangs. His jaw was uneven, I noticed, for the first time where my hand was trapped. "Erica!" I screamed, calling for my Beta, to protect her.

She growled in response and I pushed myself up, Scott off of me. All the lights above shattered. I ran around the shelves. Erica's strangled cry choked me. She fell, limp, hand scrawled out, eyes dimming to their dark brown before I even reached her. Jackson sprinted off.

Scott followed me, to make sure I was safe. He turned around and Jackson hovered behind him, like a shadow with scales covering half his face and deadly yellow eyes with splotches of red. Wickedly growling a gravel-filled growl, he knocked Scott over the cart of books. Scott pushed me out of the way, supernatural strength throwing me off to one side before Jackson's kanima claw swooshed past my neck.

I grabbed a chair to lever myself, pushing down the need for my iron pills. Black tickled my vision. Jackson locked eyes with Vee. She crouched low, and growled with her claws springing into action. Stiles circled an arm around her waist. He tackled her from behind so that she fell on him, black kanima claw dripping venom only managing to rip through the book jacket Allison tossed up in the air as a distraction.

Scott's human hand grabbed mine and he thrust me to where Allison was crouched, Stiles' hand over Vee's like she was the one who needed protecting. Between Allison and Stiles, with Scott leading and Vee bringing up the rear, I thought we made a pretty good, solid team. Erica sprang into mind, and I tried to break formation, but Scott held down my hand and Stiles' other clawed into my shoulder, planting me in place with Allison's hand on my other shoulder.

The lights flickered, spitting, going hay-wire with a crackling sound. Jackson's head lolled to the side, hanging off his shoulder, mouth open, not able to contain the rows of thick teeth in his mouth. He looked possessed. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen, yet. He raised his scale-covered hand, the only one with thick, black claws leaking out from his skilled fingertips. The side of his face that was splayed with scales was hidden by shadow, but his slitty eyes showed every kanima aspect of him without trying. Arm whipping up and down, slapping the chalk on the board and forming the words with his limp arm, he didn't even look what he was writing until it was done and he dropped his arm.

The uncomfortableness of the situation left us all trying to re-position. Scott was blocking most of it, chest heaving, but he had protected me and I was so grateful I couldn't even bring myself to move.

Jackson's head slowly moved to look straight, then drop like his neck went boneless. After a long, long while, he sprinted away, crashing above the window of the fiction section and showing the message on the chalkboard.

It said: STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU.

We disbanded, Scott and Allison and Vee rising to slowly walk toward the chalkboard. Stiles and I ran for Erica, who was seizing on the floor, writhing uncontrollably and making whimpering grunts. Stiles stepped over her, arms going around her to lift her spasming body to his, hair falling behind her. "Oh, oh, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Stiles shouted. The three of them turned. Convulsing in his arms, Stiles said, "I think she's having a seizure."

Scott bent over Erica, but I didn't let go of her hand. Her fingers trembled in mine, but held on firmly. Vee and Allison were checking up on Matt. "He's alive." Allison said.

"We need to get her to a hospital." Stiles said.

"Derek." Erica grunted, her words barely understandable. "Only. Derek."

Scott said, to Allison, "Okay, when we get her to the hospital—"

"To Derek. To Derek." Erica whispered, body twitching violently, arm shaking out.

"She's right." I said. "Only Derek would know what to do." Scott's face softened.

"Go." Allison said.

Scott stared, dumbly, and selfishly ran around the shelf to have his sweet little moment with Allison, while Erica could be dying. "Hey, Scott!" Stiles shouted.

Vee made a disgusted noise and pushed Scott out the way to slid onto her stomach, in front of Erica. "You hold in there, blonde bitch." She said, "We're not through arguing over Nora."

Erica's lips quivered and curved into the thinnest of smiles.

"Do you think she's dying?" Stiles asked.

I shook my head. "She's too strong to die from a kanima scratch."

Erica's eyelids shut. Vee slapped her cheek, twice. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Don't you dare!"

Scott came back around, and lifted Erica into his arms. Erica circled Scott's neck, sounds getting louder. She reached out for my hand, and I took it. Squeezing so hard I thought she'd break my hand, but I didn't care. Vee stayed with Allison, to protect her. They both stared at us, looking up from Matt's motionless form.

All the way to Derek's I refused to let go of Erica's hand.

I refused to say goodbye.

Derek took Erica from Scott, and we all rushed inside the subway cart. Scott and Stiles hovered around, not knowing what to do. The muscles in Erica's hand writhed, I could feel them rolling against my skin.

"Hold her up!" Derek shouted. Stiles dropped to his knees, sand spewing up, to prop her up with his long arms around her. Scott was beside me, watching a tear escape the corner of my eye.

"Is she dying?" Stiles asked.

"Sh-She might." Derek caught my tear, and nodded at Scott. Scott's arms went around me and held me in an iron grip, so I couldn't move, I couldn't even breathe. Derek rolled Erica's leather sleeve up, wrapping both hands around her arm. "Which is why this is gonna hurt. Nora, don't look." How could I not?

Derek turned his hands, and a sharp snap sounded. Erica screamed, immediately, the pain filtering her voice raggedly.

"You broke her arm?" Stiles roared, above Erica's ear-piercing cries. Scott's grip softened.

"It'll trigger the healing process." Derek said, trying an unemotional angle, but failing. Scott's hand went up to his mouth, and I went lax against him. I reached out to wipe Erica's brow. The noises she was making… the soft, high, whines. Please, god, no. Derek shook his head. "I still have to get the venom out. This is where it's really gonna hurt." He said, quickly.

A newspaper was under her arm. Derek applied pressure to where his nails were, and claws began to tickle out. Blood sprayed out, squelching under his fingertips. Her hair, matted with sweat, pulled back and a glisten caught my eye. Her hoop earrings. She screamed, a roaring lioness. Derek continued, fingernails now blunt and the paper crumpled, the dark blood jetting out stopping after Erica's anguished, heart-wrenching cries turned to soft moans of relief.

She went slack and laid back against Stiles. He didn't know what to do. Erica just stared at him, breathing hard. He reached out to touch her shoulder, then stroke out her hair and replace his arm back to supporting her back fluidly.

"Stiles," She moaned, and they locked eyes. She reached out, the back of her hand touching his arm. "You make a good Batman." Their gaze was filled with intense heat, and I wanted him to kiss her in that sweet moment, where jealousy seemed like a foreign concept. Erica's head bent as she passed out and Scott supported me when my muscles gave out altogether.

"Ohmigod." Stiles and I breathed, together.

Scott was the first one out, then I reached up to ring my arms over Derek's shoulder, the easy muscles rolling. I sighed, and he breathed against my neck, muzzling. "C'mon." He said, pulling me up to stand. Content, Stiles watched us leave to give them privacy as Erica's eyelids fluttered open.

"You know who it is." Scott said, imposingly, parting Derek and I.

We stopped walking. Derek turned, releasing my hand. I left my other hand on his shoulder as he bent down to lean on something. "Jackson. Nora already told me."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it. Didn't you?"

Derek nodded, silently, lips puckered. The moment wasn't right, but I kissed him anything. Electricity rang between us, flowing outward in the motion of our lips. Derek pulled back first, and his tongue flicked out.

Scott was looking away, intensely concentrating on something. "I'm gonna help you stop him. As part of your pack." Derek looked at him, angular cheekbones cutting shadow. Green eyes alive. I laid down my hand on his, his knuckles rasped up to touch my palm. "And so is Vee. If you want both of us in, then fine. But we'll do it on one condition: we're gonna catch him, not kill him."

"And?" Derek asked, lifting his brows with the lines around his mouth tight. Scott locked eyes with him.

"And we do it my way."

* * *

The next day, Tuesday, I was seriously contemplating telling Marcie about Derek trying to Bite her. Either she wouldn't take me seriously, and she'd continue to see him just to annoy me, or her subconscious would recognise the truth in my words and she'd be so freaked out she'd stop completely. When I approached Vee and Allison, they told me Matt was going to be fine. He wasn't healing like a werewolf, but the venom didn't do any permanent damage. So far, it hadn't, since Danny was fine. I told them about Derek trying to Bite Marcie, and Scott signing him and Vee up to Derek's pack. Vee seemed to accept that easier than Marcie being a werewolf. She'd be worse than Erica.

I also told them both about what Patch had told me about The Silver Hand. In fact, I got Patch to clear up the parts where I was still fuzzy on. Allison was savagely quiet. Vee was just savage. They understood why I didn't tell them yesterday, and also understood why I didn't want to tell anyone else, with all the kanima issues still needing to be worked through.

Patch stayed with Allison and Vee when I was called into the principal's office.

Gerard smiled. "So nice to see you again, Miss Grey. Haven't in quite some time." He stood from his seat, tweed jacket unbuttoned. "Please," He motioned for the chair in front of him, "Have a seat."

We sat down, together. "How've you been? Coping with your dad, okay?"

"Yes." I said, politely. "I mean, it's been hard at first but after a while… after Kate, I understood him more. And she had me trained to start hunting. When I did… I felt closer to him." I tried to pour contentment into my voice, tried to convey how much love I had for my father, despite everything. If he was going to act like nothing happened the night he saw me hunting the kanima with Scott, I would too.

"Kate was always very… straightforward." Gerard said. "But what can you tell me about Derek Hale?"

"Why?" My voice was coldly sharp.

"You and Isaac Lahey are our only leads on him, and after the night he killed Peter Hale, the Argent, we haven't seen him. At all." Gerard said, slowly. "What can you tell me about him?"

"I'm a lead on Derek?" I scooped up my backpack. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea where he is. Or what he's doing. Isaac doesn't either, so don't even bother asking him. I'd appreciate, in the future, if you would refrain from attaching me to… to…"

"A werewolf?" The corner of his blade-sharp mouth tilted.

"Exactly." I reached out for the doorknob. "I've got a session with Ms. Morrell I can't miss."

After leaving, I headed straight for Beacon Hills Railroad Depot. "Derek!" I called out. "Derek? We have to talk."

He materialized in the shadow, wearing a green shirt that made his eyes pop out, languidly. "About what?" He reached out his arms to lance them around my waist.

"About Kate." I said. "And the fire."

Derek sighed. "I'm gonna tell you, but you can't ask any more questions after this, and you can't interrupt me. Okay?" I nodded. "I'm twenty-two years old." He said. "Six years ago, was the fire. Kate Argent… seduced me. I fell in love with her when I was sixteen years old, and I thought that it was the real thing. I thought," Pain flashed through his eyes, not blue or red, but dimming green. "I thought she loved me too. Instead, she used the Wolf Moon to get my family all in the right place at once. The Wolf Moon is the name the Native Americans gave to the moon in January. During the Wolf Moon, we have this werewolf custom, a ritual. The whole family would reunite, and form a rite of passage, drawing strength and power from each other." He paused. "Laura and I were late. We were at school. I had basketball practice, and Talia, my mother, made her look out for me. So when we got home it was…" He finished, without a breath, "It was burned to the ground. I remember thinking about my younger sister, Cora, who had just began gaining control on the full moon. Fredrick, my uncle, had been teaching her. Peter liked to watch. Peter and Patch. They were always together, so much that I remember once Laura teased that he'd become Uncle Patch, and that's what Cora started calling him."

"Uncle Patch." I sniffed. "That's cute." I remembered what Chris said, about Kate right before she was killed by Peter. No one asked her to murder innocent people. There were children in that house. Humans. Cora was a werewolf, but how many siblings had he lost to the wicked blonde who tricked him into loving her?

"I know my sister would have liked you." Derek said, features crumbling together, creasing together in pain, "She always said I'd wed a redhead. Mostly because it rhymed, but she also said that the girl I'd love, and eventually mate, would be human. And that there was nothing wrong with that, even if she was a dru…" He stopped, pausing to look up at me through his long, dark lashes. "Never mind."

"Gerard called me into the office today."

Anger showed through Derek's clenched jaw. "What did he want?"

"To talk about you. Derek, they know I'm with you. They know about Isaac, too. We can't risk biting Marcie."

"Fine." He brought his hand up to couple my shoulder. "I won't." He muzzled into my neck.

Then, I kissed him. His hands started off at my waist, and brushed up my sides to tangle in my hair, deepening the kiss and bending my spine. My hands went down his warm body to his high, round ass. He mimicked me, bringing our hips together as he kissed me, passionately, slowly.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8: RAVING

Plush leather was beginning to stick to my thighs. We had been driving for only five to six minutes since Derek picked me up after Isaac. It meant a detour for them, them being Derek and Isaac. The farmhouse was closer to the Veterinary Office, which meant I didn't have to go to the Railroad Depot.

Awkward silence had engulfed the car—from front seat to back seat. Something had to be said. Derek had agreed to not chase down Marcie anymore. I wanted to hear it again, to banish the paranoia that Derek was going to be stolen away by Marcie. Shamelessly, I said, "So we're agreed. No more pursuing Marcie."

Derek nodded, jaw wound tighter than a guitar string.

"Looks like someone's a little jealous." Isaac whistled from the backseat, arms folded over his chest imperturbably and eyes trailed on the window outside. I grabbed the headrest of Derek's seat, twisting my body to nail Isaac with a wide look that said _don't even dare_. Isaac folded in on himself, falling back into the bottom of the seat, hoping the ground could swallow him whole.

Derek thought it was hilarious and cracked a splitting, toothy smile.

Had to hand it to Scott, only a day after he joined Derek's pack and he and Deaton had already organized a plan-slash-meeting to capture the kanima. That was "Scott's way"—catching Jackson, not killing him. Vee refused to come along, she was spending quality time with Rixon, who I insisted could come with. Vee said talking about paralytic lizards would kill the romantic mood, so I dropped it.

Leaving Vee with Rixon wasn't new to me. Patch obviously trusted him, and if he trusted Rixon it was good enough to me. Rixon was still only half a shadow, though, Vee obviously knew more about him than I did, so there was no reason to worry.

Scott had followed Jackson tonight, and rounded up the emergency meeting with Derek and I. He seemed to be interested in a rave ticket seller girl, staring at her soundlessly when Matt offered him his place in front of him in the line. Scott didn't manage to get tickets to the rave, which was Jackson's apparent next hunting ground. Stiles was on a lead, too, his vague text said, and Allison wasn't MIA, but her text was less elaborate than Stiles'. All she said was: With my dad, hunting training, ttyl?

Derek parked his car in the slot just outside the vet's, switching off the headlights. Scott popped up in the front door, checking to see if it was really us. I waved, he nodded.

The three of us filed out of the car, walking in a line up to Scott, who was unlocking the front door. He widened it, pushing it to the far interior wall. "What's he doing here?" He asked, crudely.

"I need him." Derek dispelled quickly, walking ahead into the office's mountain ash block.

Scott glared. "I don't trust him."

"Yeah, well," Isaac countered, not bothering to even glance at Scott's shorter frame, "He doesn't trust you either."

"And Derek really doesn't care." Isaac slouched against a chair, while Scott stood leaning against a low-hanging beam. "Now where's the vet, is he gonna help us or not?" Between us, Derek was wearing the brightest clothes. Under his leather jacket and black jeans, I had picked out that green shirt to match the colour of his eyes. Scott was wearing a purplish shirt, while Isaac sported a designer striped blue and brown one.

"That depends." Deaton's collected voice drifted out from the doorframe he was leaning against, bold arms folded across the faded purple shirt he wore. "Your friend Jackson. Are you planning to kill him, or save him?" He turned away from Derek and looked to me at the end of that sentence. Implying he knew about my female Alpha status, and the weight it input into the decision.

"Save him." Scott said, at the same time Derek said, "Kill him."

"Save him!" Scott repeated, pecking his head forward when Derek turned to lock eyes with him. One flash of red Alpha and Scott would back down. That was supposed to be how werewolf hierarchy worked, only Derek was answering to Scott, an Omega. Now that he was in the pack, what did that make him? Derek's Beta? And since he volunteered Vee for the job, too, did that mean she was his Beta, too?

With more confidence, after Derek rolled his eyes, Scott said, "Save him." As the final decision to Deaton.

He led us out back, to that same steel table where the dead hunter, Bennett, lay while Deaton explained his death to Gerard and Chris and I. He brought a tray filled with glass bottles, all labelled with some alluring symbol at the top of the white caps. Inside were powders, herbs, throwing metaphorical strobe lights across my vision. Deaton picked one up, flashing the symbol at me. It looked strangely accustomed, like the language you hear your parents speaking, the one they forgot to teach you.

Isaac acted on instinct and reached a hand out. Derek clutched his wrist, fingers squeezing over the pale skin of Isaac's hand, veins pronounced. "Watch what you touch." He reminded him, injecting obvious annoyance into his voice as he tossed aside Isaac's hand. That was probably a good idea for him, a creature of the night.

Deaton placed the glass back where it was, and lifted one behind a glass full to the brim of white crystals. Salt? The symbol on the jar Deaton held was definitely familiar. It was a loopy triangular design with a circle going through its centre. The substance in the jar was clumpy, dark, at the very bottom of the glass. I closed my eyes, and just as if I had the answers printed behind my eyelids, like with the female Alpha questions answered before I thought twice, I knew what the symbol was.

My mouth spoke, registering the words in my brain, without even realizing it. "A trinity knot?"

Deaton smiled. "Also known as triquetra. Celtic symbol of the Goddess."

"Meaning maid, mother and crone?"

"To Wiccans. It can also mean mind, body and soul, or—"

"Earth, sea and sky."

Deaton's smile widened. "I'm impressed, Nora. Been catching up on some late lore reading?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Derek was staring intently at me, so to not give anything away, I simply nodded and let Deaton carry on analysing the jar's contents.

Isaac bent over, displaying his jeaned backside high in the air, planting his elbows on the steel desk, fingers itching to scratch at the jars. "So," He said, testing the waters, "What are you? Some kind of witch?" Isaac was being coy, knowing Deaton was an unknown, the cost of that information plenty valuable.

"No," Deaton said, using a careful tone, one you'd use on a small child, "I'm a veterinarian."

Isaac made a soundless, "Oh," playing along.

Deaton placed down another jar, with the sun wheel taped on the top, and said, all seriousness, "Unfortunately, I don't see anything here that's gonna be an effective defence against a paralytic toxin."

"We're open to suggestions." Derek said, flatly.

"What about an effective offence?" Isaac said, maliciously pronouncing each word, with a passion. He raised his baby blues to Deaton, but turned to look at his Alpha, who answered, instead.

"We already tried." Derek said. "I nearly took its head off." Its. Not Jackson's. There was a line drawn between the kanima and Jackson. Each transformation blurred the line further, making it that much harder to distinguish the rich pretty-boy jock from the black-scaled venomous murderer. "And Argent emptied an entire clip into it. It just gets back up." He answered Isaac, but kept focused on Deaton.

"Has it shown any weaknesses?" Deaton asked, beginning to hesitate.

"Only one: It can't swim." Derek replied.

Deaton asked, "Does that go for Jackson, as well?"

"No." I said.

"He's the captain of the swim team." Scott elaborated.

"Essentially, you're trying to catch two people." Deaton orientated. He wandered off, the sound of the pull and slide of a scraping drawer rolling open, then turned back with a charm in his fingers. "A puppet," He said, charm directly in Scott's face, "And a puppeteer." The charm was of a cross-legged figure, deity. Deaton pressed it down. It clattered flat on the table. "One killed the husband, but the other had to take care of the wife. Do we know why?"

I spoke up, no matter how dumb it sounded. "I don't think Jackson could do it. His mother died pregnant, too, and she was maybe murdered. I think he couldn't let the same thing happen to someone else."

That ignited something in Isaac's head. "How'd you know it's not part of the rules?" Isaac questioned, dazedly looking into space. "The kanima kills murderers. If Jackson killed the wife, then the baby dies, too." Thoughts began to coalescence, rising like a kaleidoscope. Isaac looked to Scott for confirmation, not his Alpha.

"Does that mean your father was a murder?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if he was." Isaac uttered, eyebrow peaked, not daring to look to Scott again.

"Hold on." Deaton said, face brightening. "The book says they're bonded, right?" Derek gave the slightest of nods. "What if the fear of water isn't coming from Jackson, but rather the person who's controlling him? What if…" He raised a finger, dragging out a jar out of the bunch, even knocking one over. The symbol imprinted on the lid came quicker than the triquetra. I knew it was from the ogham alphabet: luis. He popped open the lid, shaking the fluidly dark powder inside, displaying the case with a simple line down the front and two lines streaking out to the right. "Something that affects the kanima," He shook the jar, powder leaking out, "also affects its master." He made a ring around the charm, awkwardly formed but completing the circle of mountain ash.

"Meaning what?" Isaac asked.

"Meaning we can catch them." Scott caught on, making Deaton smile at his protégé, "Both of them."

* * *

Afterwards, Derek and Isaac were waiting in the Camaro for me, while Scott had gone home. I needed to speak with Deaton, privately. He handed me a dust pan and brush, and together we swept the mountain ash off the table. Deaton plucked the charm off, first, pocketing it. Once all the ash was inside the dust pan, Deaton poured it back into an empty glass jar, with no white lid.

"I noticed how strangely you looked at all my jars." Deaton was grinning from ear to ear, which was a comforting, yet odd look on him.

"Is that what I think it is?" I nudged my chin out to the mountain ash jar, in hopes of distracting myself from the queasy feeling of thinking about the soft-lighted beacons trailing out of every jar. "Mountain ash?"

"Yes." Deaton answered, grabbing a cap from the desk behind him and screwing the jar shut.

"So how do you plan on keeping the kanima and its master in one place, if its master might be human?"

"You've got to remember, Nora, that the kanima and its master are bonded. That means the kanima's human on its master part, and vice-versa for the master. Which means that, in conclusion, both of them share a little of each other. EG, the kanima's fear of water because of its master."

"So, in turn," I began, "The master won't be able to cross the mountain ash because the kanima can't."

"Exactly." Deaton grinned, softly, warmly. "The symbol on this particular jar, the one I chose for it," Deaton said, shaking it in his grip, "Is luis from the ogham alphabet."

"What does it mean?"

"Well, for starts, the ogham alphabet is medieval. They used the names of trees for the names of their letters. Luis is the rowan tree." Deaton explained. "Also called quicken or mountain ash. Rowan is used for protection against magic and enchantment."

"Against the supernatural." I concluded. "What about the spirits of dead people?" I gulped, watching his expression faze. "And necromancy." He stiffened, straightening his spine to show the norm. I couldn't unsee the rigid contours of his spine and I couldn't ignore it, either.

Using a faux smile, Deaton said, "Usually shamans deal with spirits and hauntings." I didn't want to give him a chance to ask why, so I carried on.

"What are you?" I asked, phrasing the first question that popped into my head, which seemed to calm him.

He responded like he did to everyone else, collectedly and automatically, "I'm a veterinarian."

"Okay," I said, shooting for a different angle, one I drew on for Ms. Morrell, "Can you answer me this: Whatever you are… am I one, too?" He paused, eyes softened, afraid to reveal too much. "It would make sense, that I knew what the symbols meant on the jars and how familiar they seemed to be, calling out to me—"

"Nora," Deaton said, calculatingly slowly, "You are what I am, yes." All traces of a smile were washed away from his face. He took the jar I was rolling between my hands, peeking at the top of the lid. "The sun wheel. It represents the solar calendar, marking solstices and equinoxes. The time strongest for spirits to cross over is believed to be between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice."

"I thought the summer solstice was when the veil thinned between worlds."

"There are many myths, but between autumn equinox and winter solstice is Samhain, Halloween." Deaton paused, turning the jar over in his hands, so the stokes of the wheel twisted endlessly. "There are many ways to release a spirit, and the veil doesn't always have to be thin. Sometimes, a good enough reason can bring a spirit back. Binding them is a little trickier. Old mythology dictates salt to be the ultimate protection against spirits. Wine is good for calling the spirit forth."

"What about talking to it?" I took a faltering step forward. "Without a Ouija board, without some kind of medium. A full-on conversation with a spirit. How is that achieved?"

"The spirit has to want to talk to you, firstly." Deaton said. "But crystal balls, despite psychics using them to foretell the future, can be used to perceive memories of the dead. To work, you have to be in their house, or where they died last. It works best like a conduit, and a bond has to be established between the living person and the dead."

"A crystal ball?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." I mumbled, wiping my hands down on the fronts of my jeans. My finger slid over a bump in my pocket, raised to a type circular, sharpened point. Vee's bullet. "Oh, before I leave," I dug it out, placing one finger on the butt and one at the sharpest tip, "Can you tell me how this can force a werewolf to Shift?"

Deaton turned, placing the jar on the desk behind him, next to the one with mountain ash, and looked back to examine the bullet. Gently prodding it, he wrapped his hand around it and brought it to his nose first, then raised it up to the light. "There's a chemical in here." He mumbled, as an out loud thought, "It has an odour that I can't place." Bending over, he placed the tip of the bullet on the edge of the silver table, and levered pressure on it. A metallic groan sounded, and the top of the bullet, the cap, popped off, springing to the floor and bouncing. "The chemical is from a Honey Badger." Deaton said. "Not always harmful to humans, but nine out of ten chance it will have strange effects on a werewolf."

"Strange effects?" I asked, looking over his shoulder at where he'd left the bullet. Apparently, one look was all it took for him to know what it was that made Vee Shift.

"The chemical induces a type of infection in a werewolf. They're healing prevents them from feeling it, but it forces them into their werewolf sides until their body fight off the infecting cells. Basically, it forces them to Shift until their bodies regain proper control." Deaton paused, considering his next words. "It's a very popular tool used among foreign hunters. I hope that helps." Derek honked the car horn. "You should probably take your leave, now."

* * *

It felt impersonal to tell Derek about my dad in his Camaro with Isaac not five centimetres away, listening to everything. It's not like I was keeping anything from him, any more, so I suspended it for the time being, noncommittally.

Vee, on the other hand, I did tell. Looking anywhere but at me, she told me that my dad was dead and that picking at old wounds was only going to make me hurt again. But like the best friend she was, she managed to hunt down a store, approved by Deaton, that sold crystal balls and got two. One for each of us, her treat. I told her about the Honey Badger, and she did extensive research on them in the library instead of that week's eZine article. I didn't mind too much, but with the foreign hunters comment and the fact that the Honey Badger was native to Africa, Southwest Asian and the Indian subcontinent, it meant we either had an African-American, Asian or Indian hunter on our hands that knew enough to plant the bullet on Vee, or, worst case scenario, The Silver Hand were making their move.

Vee insisted that with my mom gone for the day, we use the crystal balls to investigate the farmhouse and see if we can perceive any memories of my dad. The only thing I had left was hope. Hope that this would work and I'd get answers, and consequently be able to rest _myself_, knowing what truly happened the night of my dad's death.

In a strange way, from Deaton's expression, it looked like he had expected the comment about spirits to come up after he told me he and my dad had been friends, and that he'd been murdered by Kate Argent to tie up loose ends. Maybe not so soon, or maybe not that late.

Tired of seeing Vee's eye magnified by the crystal ball, I left her in the kitchen to check the upstairs bedroom, where my mom slept. It used to be both my parent's bedroom. My heart dropped when nothing happened after I placed the crystal ball behind my open right eye. I swirled around, sneakers squeaking. No memories came.

Still holding the ball slotted behind my eye, I moved onto the corridor where I'd seen him last enter the bathroom. Nothing. Opening the bathroom door, nothing. Walking down the corridor, into my dad's dust-moted study, and yet, still, nothing.

I wasn't giving up, I was simply taking a doughnut-filled break with Vee. Even though she was supposed to be on a diet because she wanted to even things out between her big-boned self, and Rixon, who was on the skinny side. "Vee!" I called, holding the banister, leaning down the corridor. "Let's take a break. A doughnut break." At that, I thought I could hear her salivate.

Stepping down into the kitchen, I made a quick scope of the empty room. Had she gone home? "Vee!" I called out again, louder this time. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." Chills ran up my spine and down my legs. I looked down the corridor. Had she gone out through the back door of the dining room? Without saying anything?

The laundry room's door was open. In the darkness, a stirring shuffled. I screamed until my throat constricted, taking measured steps away. Glinting, flashing, then the sound of breaking filled my ears as I tugged on the light switch. Vee hissed.

The shattered remains of her crystal ball lay in shards to her side. Vee pulled up into a sitting, clutching her bright red hand to her chest. "Ouch!"

"Why did you have the crystal ball on your forehead?"

"To balance it. Mind's eye." Vee shot back, so angered she went red in the face.

I tugged on her arm. "C'mon, lemme see." She unfolded her hand. Bright, shiny pink skin was stretched in a faded, rusty red line down the middle of her palm—down her life line. The blood that had spattered on the floor, dripping from the shard's edge, pooled into twists and curves, running along the line of the floor.

"Vee?" I whispered, diffidently. "Do you see that?"

She looked down at the moving blood, mouth opened and eyes wide. She didn't answer me. Her expression was enough. The winding blood stopped, thinning around a shape and amalgamated in fluid handwriting. _**HARRISON**_ formed, the red seeping into the floor.

"That's your dad's name." Vee said. "Why did my blood spell out your dad's name?" When no answer came, Vee stuck out her hand, face pinched and pale. Blocking the writing, her fingertip scraped the empty floor. Reaching up, the pad of her finger held only a chalky exterior. We both looked back down and the blood was gone. No rusty red lines, like on Vee's palm, or new skin of werewolf healing. No tell-tale sign that it was once there. Simply blinking, and we would've missed the three second appearance of my dad's name written in Vee's blood on the floor.

Ten minutes later, with no avail, Vee suggested mediation. The crystal ball was balanced on my forehead, with Vee's hands blocking it from falling. She was murmuring sweet nothings into my ear, humming soft sound that was white noise in the background. I didn't know how long until my mom would be back home, which limited the time we had to do this.

Slapping my hand over the crystal ball, I hooked my fingers around it, with a crushing feeling in my chest, and peered into the milky white swirlings of triskelions and triqeutras inside, until—

_Fingers from the branches along the thorn-apple tree clawed at the windowpane behind Harrison Grey. With a Smith & Wesson between his hands, he jammed another round into the chamber, replacing the old clip._

_The phone shrilled._

_As soon as Harrison picked it up, shallow breaths on the other end morphed into the words, "How soon can you get here?" It was a ghost from Harrison's past, leaving him so bone cold he shivered, unpleasantly._

"_An hour." He answered, emotionlessly flat._

_The phone disconnected and Harrison loosened his red tie, tossing it over the back of his office chair before leaving his study in tiptoes. Outside, his breath ghosted along in smoking fumes. Cranking his car into third gear, Harrison raced down the road with only one thought on his mind: his daughter._

_His friend opened the door to his house, immediately asking the routine questions: "Were you followed?"_

"_No."_

"_Good." He said, "Because she's in danger."_

"_What kind of danger?" Harrison asked, feeling the weight of the Smith & Wesson on his sweating lower back, tucked in his waistband._

"_Serious danger." His friend said, closing the door behind him. "He'll be coming for her, they all will once they know about the scar on her wrist. About what it means."_

"_Barnabas, I'm still not sure what it means myself." Harrison tried to argue, but his friend simply shook his head._

"_And it's better to keep it that way. There are people—things—that have more power than you can imagine. More power than you or I."_

"_More power than a hunter?"_

_His friend bristled. "More power than you or I." He repeated._

"_But you're not a hunter."_

"_What I am is a concerned father, right now. You need to take her away from Beacon Hills. With societies like The Silver Hand beginning to pop up, it's just a matter of time before they realize they shouldn't only be hunting werewolves." He paused, looking down. Although Harrison couldn't see his friend's eyes in the darkness, he knew they were saddened by the thought of never seeing his daughter again. "Try to cover up her scar."_

"_How?" Harrison asked._

"_Concealer." His friend replied. "Anything that'll work."_

"_Have you ever thought of telling her the truth?" Harrison asked, only succeeding in pushing his friend's buttons. "Barnabas, listen to me. With extensive training don't you think she'll be able to master he abilities, like you've learned to master yours. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."_

"_Her hereditary powers are folklore." He hissed. "I've told you, time and time again. The scar only means the potential is there, but the bloodline has been diluted with her."_

"_With her and me, right?"_

"_Yes. That's why I can't risk to teach her."_

"_But you're a pureblood—"_

"_I cannot risk being seen with her, it would jeopardize everything we've worked to cover up!" Barnabas insisted. "What're you thinking?"_

"_Nothing." Harrison mumbled. "I'm just…"_

"_You don't want to leave." Barnabas said. "Is that it? You don't want to leave Beacon Hills? Well, let me tell you something. The only two druids in Beacon Hills who can teach my daughter the skills she needs to know are either retired or continuing to give out advice to their werewolf packs." He said _werewolf _again in a mock tone of disgust. "Those two couldn't even begin to comprehend the power she has running through her veins, how it can simply be activated by—"_

_A slow clap ensued. From the shadows, a woman's voice said, shrewdly, "Harrison Grey and Barnabas Underwood."_

_It seemed to blend together, next. The last thing he remembered was feeling two shots rip through him with a searing flame that shattered him into fragmented bits. When he finally did manage to crack open his eyes, ingesting the pain, Barnabas had a hand to his gut, with black liquid flowing through his fingers. The last thing he saw was the light flared from the tip of the gun the woman with dirty blonde hair fired._

I gasped, pushing the crystal ball away. It was swept up by a gale so powerful, the ball soared through the sky, arcing to smash against the furthest wall.

"Nora?" Vee held my by the shoulders, shaking me, "Nora, what did you see? You spaced out, for like, ten minutes. I thought you were having some psychotic break, I was about to call Ms. Morrell or Deaton!"

"No." I mouthed, sitting up with a hand behind me, slipping on the smooth floor. Vee grabbed my arm. "I'm okay." I said, voice wavering. "Vee, I'm fine, I promise." She ignored my protests, helping me to stand.

Bubbling with palpable excitement, Vee asked, staring at the swept away glass shards of the crystal ball on the floor. "So? What did you see?" She prompted, trying not to be too eager. "Did you see your father?"

"I saw his death."

The words made Vee still, cutting off her breathing circulation so that only a soft sound escaped past her rhythmically shaking chest. "Babe." She squeezed my shoulder, pulling me to her, wrapping her arms around me in an embrace I let flood me with warmth. "I'm so sorry."

"At least," I choked, swallowed and carried on, "At least now I know. My father was murdered. Protecting… a friend."

"Who?" Vee asked, eyes skipping past to my left from my right and vice-versa, looking for the swollen emotion in my soul—past the windows of my eyes.

"His name was Barnabas Underwood."

"Did you see who killed your dad?"

"Kate Argent." I said, raising my chin, remembering the splattering red raindrops of her death onto the dirty windowsill. How Peter's claws sprayed the blood, and her torn throat made wet, sucking sounds as she tried, helplessly, to breath while dying and re-living the sinful acts that would have surely banished her to the lowest circle of hell. Where she belonged. With the other treacherous betrayers, frozen in the lakes of ice.

"That bitch!" Vee hissed, scowling at the floor where the shards were displayed. "So it wasn't enough to burn down Derek's family, but she also had to murder your father because, what? She didn't want anyone to find out about it?"

"But remember what she said when she was holding the gun to Scott's face?"

"When Chris said that nobody ever told her to kill innocent people?"

"Yes. She said she did what she was told."

Vee's eyebrows wrinkled, and she rubbed her fingernail down her chin. "Argent didn't know what she was talking about. D'you think it has something to do with The Silver Hand?"

"Why would it?"

"Kate comes back into town, around the time Jules, or Chauncey, the leader of The Silver Hand, and Elliot do, too? It doesn't sound like a coincidence."

"When we talked to Derek in the parking lot, he made it seem like the Argents didn't know about them."

"Only because they were undercover." Vee argued. "What if Kate knew about them coming? And she's tied with them, somehow?"

"That's a theory. But I was thinking more Gerard."

"Allison's grandpa?" Vee's voice was lulled with doubt. "I know he's psycho, you told me he sawed that Omega in half that was eating dead people, but do you think he'd really be that extreme as to order his daughter to burn the house down around the Hales?"

"It would make sense." I said, encouragingly. "He seems like he has military in him, and the best way to get rid of something is to get someone to do it for you. Therefore, his hands are clean and no one suspects the innocent grandpa."

"Maybe." Vee said. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, let's just clean this mess," She waved her arm around the room, "Up. And get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps."

* * *

Pretty soon after we cleaned up the glass shards littered on the floor, Vee left. I got a text from Mom that said she'd be home in an hour or so, and I thought that was the end of that day. I was wrong.

As I walked into the kitchen with my jammies on, ready to make a midnight snack before bed, a plain white sheet, folded, was tacked up to the fridge. I didn't remember putting anything there, and no one except Vee had been here at the farmhouse with me. Could it have been Derek to drop off a quick note telling me he wouldn't be able to come over tonight?

I leaned against the outer counter, fingers brushing something cool and hard. Turning, I closed my fist around the object and brought it up to eyelevel. Unwrapping my fingers one by one until the thing was plainly in my palm, I stared at it, shifting it around my palm to catch glimpses of the embroidery. It was a black ring, half scorched and melted. Where the iron band ended and a stone should have sat at the crown, there was a hand stamped on. It was a menacing, enclosed fist, squeezing tight. Even that was charred, albeit slightly less. It looked loose if it were to go on my thumb, it was wider than a feminine design, and looked worn already. By a man who had set it on fire?

Ripping the note out from the magnet on the fridge, the ring in my other hand, I flipped out the crisp white sheet. In bold handwriting, the words THIS RING BELONGS TO THE SILVER HAND. HE KILLED YOUR DAD were printed along the paper.

Heartbeat rising, I crumpled the paper into the ball and jammed it into the bottom of the trash. Tugging open the freezer door, I slid the ice tray out and dropped it onto the island counter. Holding the ring, I puckered out one block of ice with my nails until it thawed and chipping out. I let it drop to the floor.

Placing the ring into the square set, I bent over and picked up the melting ice. It was slippery in my hand, which I had to squeeze to keep from moving around my hot, sweaty palm. Carefully placing the cube on top of the ring, I watched it melt. There was no sizzling, but the ice pooled around the silver ring in a handful of seconds. The ice cubes surrounding the ring were dripping around the edges, thawing as easily as if I had aimed a hot light at the tray. I knew that silver had the highest thermal conductivity of any common ally, copper following close behind.

To make sure it was really silver and not copper, I dug around in the cabinet under the sink for some bleach. Tipping it over, with the cap popped off, I squeezed in the belly of the bottle and let a single globule. The silver seemed to shrivel under the bleach, any last remaining glints cresting into black, tarnished. The ring wasn't set on fire—it has been bleached so no one could tell it had been silver once. The Silver Hand, whoever that was, as a person and not a group, bleached their initiation ring.

I could deduce three things from this, I decided, trying to keep logical with my raising temperature overwhelming me, my insides sickening. Either, number one, Vee was right and Kate Argent had been a member of The Silver Hand, which was equally as likely as unlikely since Argent meant silver in French. Unlikely because the note said "he" and not "she". Two: The note was a stupid prank set up by Marcie or Lionel. Three: Kate Argent wasn't my father's killer, and someone worthy of the title of a hunter faction's group name had really killed my father, bleaching their ring afterwards to hide the fact they had ever been in the group. Consequently, the latter also meant Deaton had lied to me.

If I was trusting the note, I wasn't trusting Deaton or the vision I saw with the crystal ball.

If I was trusting the vision, I was relying on something spur-of-the-moment from a crystal ball and ignoring the simple fact of the note itself.

Both sources were unreliable because the crystal ball was purely mystical and the note's origins were complete mystery. I had to go with my gut feeling, which was to limit the choices to two things: Trust Deaton or trust my instincts.

I'd have to trust my instincts and bury it all down, once again, with more elaborate things to worry about like kanimas and kanima masters and a rave I had no tickets for, in which a plan formulated by a Beta werewolf who had taken up residence in mine and Derek's pack and the Beta's mentor, Deaton, relying on the proven effective power of mountain ash to trap both the kanima and its master. Based on what had been found in the Argent Bestiary an insanely genius girl, who had suffered a fugue state after being Bitten by one of my best friend's ex-Alpha boyfriends, Peter, in which she ran naked across the woods for two days, translated from Archaic Latin to English

The odds were stacked against us.

* * *

"For the rave?" Vee asked, fanning herself with a magazine she had picked up off the bonnet of the Neon. "Yeah, I have tickets. Rixon got us both some. I was actually thinking of bringing him along for the plan, although that sours the deal for the rave we were going to go as a couple."

A bitter pang of jealousy struck, and I found myself wondering why. I had Derek, a sexy, brooding Alpha werewolf, and I was jealous over hearing Vee's plans with Rixon change so that we could capture the kanima? Or was it the element of a date in their plans that made me jealous Derek and I never got to share one? "Are you sure it's a good idea to bring him along? I mean, I know he knows about the supernatural, but…" I left it open-ended, watching closely for Vee's reaction—if she had thought through putting her human boyfriend in danger.

"Trust me, babe, Rixon can handle himself."

At the mention of his best friend's name, Patch's dark-haired head titled up from its bent preposition into looking from his locker.

"Ain't that right, Patch?" Vee prompted, jamming her elbow into his ribs. He didn't even flinch. It seemed like werefoxes had a higher threshold for pain than werewolves. I remembered fighting Dabria for my life at the farmhouse. No matter what I did, she always dusted herself off and got up, baring fang, ready to take a bite out of my shoulder and kill me with her werefox poison.

Patch nodded, slamming his locker by leaning with his back against it. Hooking his thumbs into his pockets, he said, "That's right. Rixon'll be fine at the rave."

"Speaking of which," I interpolated, before Vee's confused expression dissolved into one of knowing when the penny dropped over super werefox hearing, "Do you have any extra tickets?"

Calculatingly, he rubbed the stubble along his jaw, a barely there smile teasing his lips. "Who for?"

"Me."

"Sorry," He lamented, dark eyes snapping down, refusing to meet mine, "Danny got me mine."

Vee cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

Patch raised his chin, unprovoked. "Danny got two tickets. He invited me. So I said yes."

Vee bristled, scowling. "I thought you said you broke up with him to avoid all the supernatural bullsh—" She hissed, teeth clenched so hard I thought they would shatter.

"What she _means_ to say, Patch, is why you would put his life in danger again after what happened with Dabria."

Vee wanted to argue, but let it drift, turning to plaque a questioning look over her shoulder. Patch beamed at her, a dryly sarcastic smile that was gone in seconds.

"Not that it's any of your business," He said, reacting to the stiffness of Vee's face, "But I'm only going to protect Danny. If Jackson attacked him last time at Jungle, and I couldn't do anything about it, at least at this rave I'll be able to make sure nothing bad happens to him."

"Wow," Vee mumbled, looking sidelong at the salmon stream crowds moving south, "You just can't stay away can you?"

"It's not like we're making up," Patch spat. "Danny only asked me as friends."

Vee's laughter swam around Patch, "Of course he did! That's the oldest, biggest cliché in the book! Oh, hey Patch, wanna go to where they're gonna be thousands of people dancing and bumping just as friends. Then, where you get there, wanna drink, just as friends. Escalating all the way to wanna stick your tongue down my throat, _as friends_?" She half-shouted, students beginning to pay some attention to her. Patch didn't even break eye contact.

With a cocky smile, he answered, "Just remember who set you up with Rixon."

Vee brushed off the weak argument. "Scott and Stiles don't have tickets, either."

"Yes they do." Patch said. "Isaac managed to grab a few."

"How?" Vee asked, perking up from her slouch against the lockers at her back. "Is someone selling?" She asked, less perkily, trying to phase out the awkwardness of Isaac's name and the excitement in her voice at how she said it.

Patch cracked a wider smile. "No, uh, he used more violent means for that end." Vee rolled her eyes. "Hey, it got the job done. Got enough tickets for Scott and Stiles, himself, and Erica."

"Good to know." I swallowed the bittersweet sensation. "Think I could crash it?"

"With such high names playing?" Patch laughed, tipping his head back to expose the long dark line of his shadowy throat. "You'd have to be sleeping with all the DJs."

Vee wiggled her brows. Scoffing, I shoved at her chest.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang out. "Damn." I twisted to plant myself against the lockers, muffling the noise. "Hide me! Hide me!" Patch and Vee stepped in to block me, making an unbreakable formation between them.

"Goody-two-shoes." Vee murmured.

"Sunday schoolgirl." Patch murmured.

"Hello?" I whispered, after answering. "This isn't a good time, I'm at school!"

"Oh." Lionel said. "Woops. Sorry about that, didn't mean to get you while you were in class." Although, by the sound of his voice and the smile behind it, it seemed like that was the only thing he wanted to do. Hell, I'd bet the five dollars and sixty-three cents in my pocket that it was the highlight of his day, imagining me in trouble. Which was a very… Marcie Millar (self-centred) thought.

"Were you going to leave a message?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to ask you about the rave that's going on tonight. Guess who got two tickets before the vendor shut down?" When I didn't answer, he said, a little too eagerly, "Me! And since you're like my only friend, I was hoping you'd tag along and bring some friends. No offence, but you're not exactly guy material, Grey, and I need some other testosterone-fuelled acquaintances if I'm going to be joining BHHS."

"Oh," I gaped, "Perfect timing. All my friends are going and I was just thinking how I'd get in without tickets." It did seem a little convenient, and the paranoid thought he was watching or listening me fluttered through my mind. But the logical side of me said that Lionel had better things to do, and that I should just thank him and take him up on the offer before he had second thoughts over what happened last time we went out—to the Z. Problem was: While we were all initiating the plan, how was I supposed to get rid of the guy who brought me to the rave? Seemed a little rude to just ditch him, even if he wasn't the best company in the world.

"Great. I'll swing by later on, then."

"Okay." I said, pouring every ounce of thankfulness in my being into my voice. "Thanks."

"Any time. I'll let you get back to getting As in all your classes." The grin behind his voice was annoyingly familiar.

"Ha," I said. But he disconnected the line before I could get out the second string of that line. Patch and Vee turned inwards so they were looking at me, expectantly. "Looks like Lionel is bringing me to the rave tonight."

I shared my next class with Stiles, and he scooted into the seat beside me, flailing to drop his back at his feet. "We've found something!" He whispered, loud enough to force the teacher to turn from the chalkboard and shush him. Stiles nodded, enthusiastically, whipping out his notebook and flipping to the next clean page.

Staring at the blue lines of his notebook, pretending to be jotting down the key points the teacher was making in my own book, I listened intently, hanging onto every word out of his lips. "My dad figured out that the couple in the trailer park and the mechanic were all twenty-four years old. He thought it was a pattern which Isaac's father didn't fit in, until he realized that Mr. Lahey actually had another son, Camden Lahey, who would have fit the pattern of twenty-four years old if he hadn't been killed in combat."

"Isaac had a brother?" I whispered, feeling my chest constrict. Killed in combat. It wasn't an excuse to beat your child, but was there a possibility Mr. Lahey took out his frustrations about his dead son and forgotten wife on the last smidgen of his family left? It seemed inhumane, but what other reason was there except biblical discipline? "When did he die?"

Stiles squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm not too sure, but if he was alive today he would have been twenty-four, which is how I got to the inference that they all must have been in the same class at school. So we searched through classroom records and found the two thousand and six BHHS yearbook. All the victims so far, Tucker Cornish, the mechanic, Sean Long, the husband, Jessica Bartlett, the pregnant wife, have been in Mr. Harris's chemistry class, including Camden Lahey."

"So someone might be hunting down Harris's old students?"

"More specifically," Stiles slid a folded piece of paper across the desk toward me, "Those students."

After Tucker, Sean, Jessica and Camden, the names listed were:

Daphne Hayes, Christie Stephens, Kathleen Kasinger, Brenda Findlay, Jade Holmes, Shena Hammer, Collete Knight, Patrick Duggar, Maloria Irvine, Johnny Langofrd and Anna Basso. Basso? Deputy Basso. Anna. He didn't look much older than twenty four, so he couldn't have a daughter that age. Could she be his sister? Cousin?

There were eleven potential victims on that list. Eleven people that could wind up dead because of Jackson. We couldn't let that happen. Stiles shared a hard look with me, and we both nodded, sealing our silent deal that neither of us would let another one of those names be crossed off. Not without a fight.

* * *

I was pacing back and forth in my room. Most of what I owned seemed inappropriate for tonight. Forcing myself to patch things up with my mom, I had crafted up a plan to ask her what I should wear and let symbolism build the trust between us again. She didn't even know where I was going, not bothering to ask anymore, and I wasn't offering the information up lately, not having Vee drive me around as a chauffeur as much, which always used to calm Mom down a bit.

Having called her about two minutes ago, I heard her walk up the stairs, slowly, and rasp on the door twice. Turning with a big smile on my face, I opened the door.

"Did you need something?" Mom asked, hefting a cold shoulder my way, as part of the punishment of blocking her out since agreeing to be Derek's female Alpha. "Lipstick, mascara, blush?"

"I don't want to borrow your makeup, Mom." I said, tersely. "I just wanted some advice."

"On?"

"What I should wear for tonight."

Mom looked over my shoulder at the clothes flung across the bed, a strange look eclipsing her features, a crossbreed of hesitance and recognition. Treading into the room, carefully, she let her eyes rest on a pastel pink dress and threaded it between her fingers. "What's the occasion?"

I didn't want to lie. Telling the truth could've blown the whole scheme up. But I just couldn't lie to her, anymore. I'd face the consequences of all my actions leading up to this night… tomorrow. "A rave."

Mom battled the emotions crossing her face. "An underground… rave? Like a secret party?"

"Yes." I said. "Lionel's taking me. Vee's going with Rixon and Danny's going with Patch and—"

"I thought Danny and Patch had broken up." Mom said, with a pinch to her brow.

"They're going as friends."

"Oh." She said, "And are you and Lionel going just as friends?"

"Of course." I replied, watching her every move, trying to decide whether or not telling her was the right thing to do. She wasn't exploding and shouting that I was grounded until the Fourth of July, which was a good thing.

Mom bent over to raise a plaid shirt up from the bed, holding it carefully. It was chequered with black and grey and said to bring out my eyes. Stiles gave it to me, after the red hoodie, although it did have a hood of its own with white strings down the collar bones. "This." Mom said, simply, "With a white vest under and…" Going by me, holding out the shirt to my vest, she wandered over to my wardrobe to investigate the rest of my clothes.

"What happened to your driving moccs?"

"They're at the bottom," I instructed, "With my ballet flats."

She handed me my blue pair, with pink threading. "Vest." She added, piling it onto the plaid shirt. "With…" Moving across to the bed, completely in her element, she travelled through my clothes until she found Erica's borrowed jean shorts, the ones that cut off so it showed all kinds of thigh. "This."

I began getting dressed, wearing a black lacy bra from Victoria's Secret that cost about fifty bucks, and matching panties. The vest showed the black bra underneath, but I buttoned the plaid shirt to hide that fact. I didn't want to argue with my mom after something as simple as picking out my clothes drove her into a better mood. The jean shorts were a little out of my league, but Mom insisted topped with the driving moccasins they worked. Passing my through a cloud of Love by Ralph Lauren she sprayed, and according to her standards I was done.

Twirling me around, Mom plucked the buttons off the plaid shirt so it hung to each side, showing the black underneath the white. "Better that way." She explained. "Looks more natural. Be careful with Lionel tonight. I don't trust him. But with all your friends there, even though you didn't ask, I'm sure nothing will go wrong tonight."

"I definitely hope so."

Outside, Lionel honked the horn of his silver-blue Mustang. Mom walked me to the porch and waved us off. Halfway down the driveway, Lionel turned to me and asked, "Why do you smell like your mom?"

* * *

The rave was in a warehouse just inside the industrial sector, close to the club Jungle, actually, and not too far from where Derek, Vee and I fought the kanima until Chris and Gerard came. It was a cold night, forcing me to shiver under Stiles' plaid protection. If Lionel seemed to notice, he either ignored me or didn't care.

Just as we pulled into the warehouse's parking, or where all the cars seemed to be, the headlights of Stiles' blue Jeep flashed into sight. Beside me, Lionel watched my expression as I unclipped my seatbelt and unlocked the door.

"I'm gonna go talk to my friends." I said, hastily rushing to leap out of the Mustang. "I'll see you inside in just a bit, okay?"

Lionel nodded, flashing a grin before I left. Jogging up toward them, I saw that the trunk was lifted and a garbage bag full of the mountain ash was in Stiles' hand. "Hey," I said, "Who's creating the barrier."

"Stiles is." Scott said, then snapped his head up. Alertness taking over, he threw his arms up. "No." He spoke aloud, "Not here, not now." Scott started in a brisk jog away from us, but not inside the warehouse.

"Scott! What am I supposed to…?" Stiles gave up, murmuring to himself, "This plan officially sucks." Tossing the black bag to the tires of his Jeep, Stiles whirled around, kicking and cursing at the dirt and anything else that got in his chaotic way.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Frigidly, he turned to face me, startlingly pulling me back. He didn't say anything. With those usually warm, amber eyes he drank me in, almost possessively, with a sadness that made me ache. "What happened?" His lower lip trembled. "Do you not want to talk about it?" Splittingly, he spun on his heel and ferociously began ripping his hands through his hair, temples going red.

Patch's silver chain, which still hung around my neck, heated as my skin began to perspire. "I'm gonna go inside and make sure Patch and Vee know the details about the plan." I got the sense that even though Stiles nodded, he couldn't have cared less about what I said. There was a touch to him that was rough, some implemented stone cast his way. It didn't seem like nerves to me.

Climbing up the bank to the warehouse, a voice pierced my head, my thoughts. _Nora_. The thought floated across my mind, searing my dad's voice into the sheer surface. Acting on instinct, I turned to look behind my shoulder automatically. A few feet away, a man passed under a cone of streetlight, hunched shoulders and black hair. Whipping back around, Stiles was fumbling with the bag, not even looking in my direction.

_I'm here._ He said, singing between my ears, pounding my blood around my shoulder and down my arms—clutching my fists to my chest as a sob escaped my lips, dryly. Why? Why, if my dad's spirit was communicating with me now, had he taken so long to finally speak? Six years. If my dad was speaking to me, if he wanted to talk to me, he shouldn't have waited so long.

I walked into the warehouse, a blasting pumping through my head. A sharper, colder voice demanded my attention. _Listen to me! _It wasn't my dad's voice, this time it was more savage, shedding off the gentle tone my dad would use to lull me to sleep. That was how I remembered him, not this older, demanding person who had waited for me to find out Kate Argent killed him to talk to me. I preferred to remember my dad as the blonde man who sang me to sleep with his scratchy voice, trying to smooth out the tunes and made me laugh, than this tough hunter who was killed by a woman he was about to uncover. That was the way it was going to stay, for me. I was hallucinating his voice, but that second time someone was trying to sound like him to lure me away.

Stealing myself, I entered the rave.

* * *

Bodies jumping all around, Vee pressed herself tighter against Rixon, whose arms wound harder around her waist. She didn't feel safe, but it was the thrill that was keeping her bouncing to the beat. Occasionally, her seven inch stiletto heels would stab someone's foot and the person would take one look at her and her partner, Rixon, and just apologetically turn back around. Since the last fight with the kanima, Vee decided that the particular glossy yellow heels weren't effective for fighting. She was wearing knee-high black boots, the ones she wore for her Catwoman costume last Halloween, with stiletto heels. She kept it simple with a miniskirt and a black shirt with a pink bleeding heart printed between her boobs. Rixon loved it.

In turn, he wore this burgundy button down that Vee had to admit, was sexy as hell, and dressy skintight pants with eight hundred dollar black loafers. He grinned at her. "Having a good time, lass?"

Revelling in his accent, she placed her chin on his shoulder. He was taller than her, which made her the perfect height to mouth at his neck. A secret sensitive spot of his. "I'm just worried about Nora, is all."

"Love, you don't need to be." She followed his lead in rotating hips. "She's one hella fighter."

"Yeah." Vee agreed, but wasn't as convinced as she let on. The flashing lights and glowsticks were maddening, the sound topped off a symphony of assault on her werewolf senses. She wasn't a newbie, but a rave had always been an experience she wanted to go to, now as a werewolf it was maximized. She struggled to filter everything. It all sort of hit at once, though her sense of smell was her most acute—she didn't have to smell all the scents but she heard all the heartbeats and felt her eyes slit at one particularly inhumanly gorgeous couple.

Patch, who was dancing an arm's length away with Danny, locked eyes with her. He was easy to pick out, clad in black denim, leather and silk all giving off easily noticeable stenches of _pricey_. All she had to do was shut her eyes and follow his misty rich scent.

Then, there were two more smells she dreaded. One was sweet perfume—Chanel?—clouding around her straightened blonde hair, silky white top and leathery tight miniskirt. The other took her likewise by surprise, like icy gales swept her way. Tall and dressed to impress, was Isaac's nibbling scent, Erica practically on his arm, the pair sashayed, excitement rolled off them, building up like cresting waves.

Through Patch's gestures, he hadn't expected them either. Derek was supposed to be here, but not his inexperienced Betas, well, maybe Boyd, but not Isaac and Erica. Swallowing down regret, Vee swerved so Rixon's back was to them, giving her a clearer view of their path of destruction.

What did this mean? Had the plan changed?

"What's wrong?" Rixon asked, Irish breaking her out of her bubble.

Vee flashed a grin. "Nothing." She swayed to the beating music. "Let's just keep dancing." Wordlessly, he agreed, hands slipping down her sides to hold her hips. Vee fought the flush that crept up to her face, and let herself be guided by the inner wolf. Problem was, her inner wolf was pulling her away from Rixon.

Peeking over his shoulder, she saw Patch had gone back to dancing with the entourage he had snagged in his gravitational pull, Danny on the front lines.

But when she turned, something else snapped into place. This perfume wasn't as sweet as Erica's, it was stronger and less delicate. Scorching sexy silk. Allison Argent. Her faint metallic splotch wasn't there. She was defenceless, no weapons. Not even a Taser. Vee wondered if Nora had gone the same way, depending solely on her _pack_, which now actually included Vee because of Scott's hero complex, to protect her from any hidden dangers.

A girl with red hair bumped into Vee, swaying glowsticks. "Want one?" She asked, but Vee shook her head and the girl past Rixon to leap into the deeper crowd under the disco ball scattering thick streams lights, which Vee could see were made up of multi-coloured particles, and it took her breath away.

Matt. His scent was different, almost interchangeable with the blending of the crowd. She didn't recognize it as much as Allison's, but he was holding her hand and they were moving into the crowd. Vee wasn't interested in what he was wearing, although Allison's denim overall getup with a thin yellow cardigan was appealing. Her hair was done up, black stripes curled up on top of her head, with earrings flashing and everything. Vee couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. Rixon followed her line of vision, usually accepting that if Vee saw something he'd missed, it was worthy of important attention.

"Allison?" He asked, gently. Vee nodded. "Isn't that Scott?"

"Not with her." Vee said. "That's Matt, he took Nora to the Formal."

"No," Rixon persisted, he folded an arm over her shoulder and pointed, "There. Scott."

Vee followed his finger, giving it a playful nip, until she found Scott in a red hoodie lurking behind a cement beam, face stoic. Allison stopped to stare, then told Matt to give her a second and left, heading toward him.

Rixon shook Vee, lightly. "Are you gonna listen in? Won't that be a bit rude?"

Vee gave him a look. "Since when? It might be important."

Rixon's smile curled, and he bent his neck to sniff at her collarbone, letting her head stay propped up to listen past the music, past the voices, and concentrate endearly on their words. Scott took Allison's arm domineeringly and Matt stared after.

"What are you doing?" Vee picked up, the voice rough and masculine. Dripping with jealousy, she noticed, at the raspberry smell of it, combining her senses to thrash a pounding headache.

Allison's response was flat, holding a notch of accusation, unbelieving, "You told me to go out with him."

Scott answered back with, "Not here." Allison wasn't in on the plan, she didn't understand. "You don't get it, we have a plan. All of us."

"You have a plan? Okay, okay! My father and Gerard—they're coming here." Allison was hyperventilating, trying to keep it together but her breathing accelerated and her heart began to spike.

"What did you tell them?" Scott's normally composed voice wasn't just rough around the edges, it was I-ate-gravel-and-I'm-gonna-take-it-out-on-you harsh. Vee winced.

"Love?" Rixon asked. Vee put a finger to his lips, eyes still closed.

"I-I told them," She stuttered.

Scott wasn't having any of it. "Allison?"

"I-I-I had to tell them!"

A beat of pause while Scott connected the dots.

"My God, they know it's Jackson."

"People are dying, Scott! What am I supposed to do?" Allison's voice was incredulous, on the verge of breaking.

"You're supposed to trust me." Scott's voice was quieter.

"I trust you! More than anyone!" Allison pleaded.

Scott breathed in, "We… We had a plan."

"So do they." Allison said, as hard as steel.

"This isn't going to work." Scott said simply. Vee didn't know if he was referring to the countering plans that they and the hunters had, or Scott and Allison together. It was an unsolvable innuendo, and Vee hated those.

Allison's heart went into over-drive. She sighed. "What do you want me to do? Okay, I-I can fix it. Please, please, Scott, just tell me!"

Scott said, "Just stay out of the way."

"Scott!"

A little distant, but roaring louder, repeating, "Just stay out of the way!" And Scott's footsteps echoed, leaving Allison breathing hard, trying not to show weakness. Wanting to re-group and follow through with the hunter's plan.

* * *

When I finally found Lionel inside, he was dancing by himself with a group of college-aged girls watching. Seeing me, his face brightened up and he pulled me into the ring they had formed around him. I didn't like it. It was like watching a caged animal.

"Hey, Grey, come dance." Lionel said, minty breath shocking. I expected to find him draining kegs with a straw or a funnel. Showing a smile that wasn't fake or teasing or a grin, Lionel twirled me on the spot with a tenderness that dropped my jaw.

Snapping it shut with his hand, he went back to dancing, pumping his hips and arms, twisting and turning at every corner to intercede with me. The girls splintered off, throwing dirty looks. One of them knocked into me, pushing my shoulder back. Consequently, I bumped into a couple passionately making out. They didn't even notice.

Lionel picked up my hand, placing it on his shoulder. He took my other and circled my arms around his neck, hands going to sway my waist.

"Excuse me. Excuse me!" A familiar voice chimed, pushing bodies apart. "Okay, yeah, sorry, excuse me. Don't touch! Rixon? Okay, move!" Vee parted through the sea of people, hand intertwined with Rixon's. "Babe!" She sighed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. "We've got an issue."

I pressed a hand to Lionel's chest, pushing back. "What it is?"

Vee looked pointedly over my shoulder at Lionel, raised her brows significantly, looked to Rixon, then back at me. I nodded in Rixon's direction and she said, "Okay, follow me."

Rixon took the lead. Lionel swept up my hand and joined our fingers, making sure to stay close enough behind me to smell my hair. "How are we supposed to get rid of him, now?" Vee whispered.

"I don't know." I whispered back, hoping his werewolf hearing was impaired, or that all the noise and confusion was making it hard to pick up on any one conversation, or that he had gratefully switched it off.

"We could actually use him." Vee said. "He's Born, not Bitten."

"It's too soon." I answered back, "I don't want him knowing that I know. When he knows I know I'm hoping he'll want to join Derek's pack, not the SH's rogue one."

Vee nodded after rolling her eyes. "Why do you smell like your mom?" She asked, elbowing a woman out the way to stand beside Patch, who had black jeans on and a stringy fishnet sleeveless top, a leather jacket over his shoulders. Danny had leather pants on, honest to God leather pants, with creases all down his legs and a thermal high-collar grey shirt. Rixon looked the most normal with a burgundy shirt and expensive looking shoes and pants. I recognized Vee's boots from Halloween last year, but the top and skirt were foreign to me, they looked like they were from AllSaints.

Danny took in Lionel, from his khaki shorts to his loose-cut gym shirt, one from a different gym than the last time. "Danny," Patch said, "This is Lionel." Lionel nodded. "Lionel," Patch continued, "This is my ex-boyfriend, Danny."

"You could just say friend," Danny said, shaking Lionel's hand. "So, where you from?"

"Excuse us for a second," I muttered, moving out of earshot. For Danny, anyway. I was still hoping Lionel just would choose not to listen and talk to Danny respectfully. "What's the problem?"

"The Argents are here." Vee said. "I heard Scott and Allison talking. Chris and Gerard have a plan and Allison's here with them. And Matt." Vee added, confusing herself and shaking her head.

"The hunters have a plan to catch the kanima?" I asked, knowing that all ties with them had been severed now. They knew about Derek and I, cutting me from the limited circle I had begun to claw my way inside.

Vee and Patch shared a look.

"Kill." Patch clarified. "They're here to kill Jackson."

Thoughts and shapes swam in my head—overloading everything we had built, tried to build. "Stiles is outside creating the barrier." I said. "Scott ran off, do you know where he is?"

"Talking to Isaac." Vee said, pointing at the corner Scott had dragged him to, holding the ketamine needle in hand. "They're changing the plan up."

"What about Derek and Boyd?"

"They're still outside." Patch said. "With the hunters there, too, I don't think they'll be able to get past them."

"What's Scott saying to Isaac?" Rixon asked.

Vee strained, blood vessels gathering in her face. "Something about the needle, it has to be in the vein. And plunged all the way down." She nodded. "Should we wait for him to tell us what to do?"

Rixon made a sour face. "Why? He's not the Alpha."

"Well, the Alpha isn't here right now." I said. "Rixon, stay here with Lionel and Danny so they don't suspect anything. We'll go talk to Scott." He nodded as we weaved through the crowd to the intimate corner Scott and Isaac were playing out, emotions softening their features. Feeling as if we were disrupting a moment, I approached carefully. Scott turned, and Isaac left, eyes leering on Scott, to join Erica somewhere distant.

"The hunters are here." Scott said.

"We know." Vee answered. "What are we going to do?"

Scott looked thoughtful, looking up at Patch. "You and Vee," He began, "Go outside and help Derek and Boyd. Don't kill anyone. Just make sure no one gets… hurt." Vee and Patch nodded, soldierlike, and began charging through the crowd to the exit.

"What about me and Rixon?" I asked. "Stiles is still outside creating the barrier."

"I'll go protect him and make sure nothing goes wrong." Scott said. "You and Rixon keep an eye on Jackson. You're going to be Plan B if something goes wrong with the ketamine."

"We're human, what are we supposed to do against a kanima?"

Scott's smile was soft. "I trust you Nora, so make sure Rixon knows what's going on. If Isaac and Erica fail, it's up to you to knock Jackson out and get him to the room."

"Down the corridor, to the left of the stairs."

"Exactly." Scott said. "I'm gonna go outside to Stiles. If everything goes right, we'll see each other in a few."

He turned to go, but I grabbed his shoulder. "What's wrong?" He asked.

The words tumbled out. "What about Allison?"

Betrayal crossed over Scott's face like a thousand bolts of lightning, forcing him to wince. "Just… leave her out of it." His voice was so small, so quiet, I wasn't sure I heard right. But then he encircled his arms around me and I pushed back into the embrace. "Good luck." He said.

"You too." I responded, and watched him flow into the crowd.

* * *

Vee and Patch were solidly linking Derek and Boyd, Vee had taken Derek's other side while Patch had insisted to take cover for the youngest Beta.

The four of them were matched against six hunters, Vee counted, with Chris leading them, bringing them up to seven. Seven trained killers against an Alpha werewolf, his reluctant female Betas, his musclebound youngest Beta and a rogue werefox who was, at best, an Omega joining the fight. Vee wasn't clear on the dynamics for werefoxes, but if they were anything like werewolves, he was packless. Scott had signed her and himself up, but Patch was here to help. And that meant something.

Vee didn't see Gerard, which only boosted up her nerves.

"Derek," Argent said, "Back off." Vee couldn't count the individual weapons on each individual hunter, but between the eight of them—including Chris—she counted a range of at least four shotguns, and she knew Chris Argent brought two hangsuns with a handful of clips tied around his waist, as well as other weapons she couldn't classify.

Derek played along. "Back off?" He acted hurt, which wasn't something that came natural, Vee noted. Boyd was smiling, enjoying the foreplay. "That's really all you got?" Argent's eyes narrowed. "I gotta be honest, Chris, I was really expecting more from the big bad veteran werewolf hunter." A shit-eating grin was hovering over his face, toying with masking his emotions. This was a long time coming for Derek, Vee could see it lit up in his green eyes. Patch was as emotionless as he was ever, analysing and calculating and giving nothing back. Dabria's little trick, he had once told her, when they had gotten relatively close after Nora's ambiguous semi-departure.

"Okay then," Argent said, bemused, tired lines marking his fortysomething handsome face, icy blue eyes dim. "How about, didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring claws to a gunfight?" Throwing salt into our eyes, guns pumped and cracked and Vee found herself staring down into four shotgun barrels and three handguns in a double-grip.

"That one sounded pretty good." Boyd said, making Vee grin awkwardly. Derek blinked several times, looking over at Patch to make sure he was there, then turned to square his shoulders.

"Ready?" He asked.

It took Vee a long time to realize he was only talking to Patch. Ostentatiously glowing orange eyes and thin top canines extended, "Ready."

* * *

Jackson finally showed up, space around him like a bubble, with a murderously-set face. I shivered in Lionel's arms. He chuckled, shifting so that he was blocking my view of Jackson. I looked, panicked, to Rixon who was dancing with Danny. Rixon's jaw was crushed. He nodded.

* * *

The bullets ran in rivulets, crashing and bursting around the dumpsters. Vee's spine ached, her hands still collected to the top of her head instinctively. Boyd was beside her, showing the same human instinct, which somehow made Vee less self-conscious. Patch was balled up next to Derek, speaking through the piercing gunfire. Vee's ears were ringing with the sound. She doubted she'd ever get used to something so earsplittingly loud. Sparks blew off from where the bullets landed, and she felt the wind flap past her. Boyd pushed her back, closer to him, away from the bullet.

* * *

Arms were in the air, all around, glowsticks swinging. One delicate touch from Erica to the back of Jackson's neck, and he stopped. She slid around him, adamantly leaning into his ear. Jackson's jaw opened and with desire running rampant through him, stiff but expertly, with Erica crushed between them, Jackson and Isaac grinded to the music. I was so focused on watching them that I didn't notice Lionel's hands going lower, or Danny beginning to throw himself at a disturbingly-looking Rixon.

* * *

The hunters began re-loading. They couldn't let them. Boyd was out of place first, followed by Vee who leaped into place behind him. A hunter with a moustache swung out the butt of his gun. Vee caught it, wanting to crack the metal between her hands.

Lashing out the momentum and built-up strength in her arms, it split the hunter's nose, leaving a deep purple bruise with a bleeding red line between it. He crumpled to the floor. Vee bent the metal in her palms, twisting the action bar and magazine to meet.

Boyd swung a claw-tipped hand. The hunter, faster than Boyd, ducked, and kicked out, dropping his gun, leaving his weapon. Picking him up by the scruff of his neck, Boyd lifted the hunter and flung him away, into the wall.

Patch's elbow met with the rib of a shotgun. Vee whirled around, watching him crank up his arm to knock the hunter back. Vee dropped low, swinging her feet out to the lower parts of the hunter's leg. Like a sack of potatoes, the hunter went down, and Vee held her stiletto to his throat.

Derek acrobatically flipped over the dumpster, on his back, and landed effortlessly on his feet. Running to meet a hunter, he jumped into the air, feet whipping up to splat the hunter flat on his back, fly-kicking him, while Derek slickly dropped into a bestial crouch.

* * *

Erica exposed more of her throat, letting Jackson's hot lips mouth at the pulse-point there. Nose to her cheek, Erica turned to Isaac, who dipped into her shoulder. Hands roamed. One of Lionel's dropped to my waistband. An Irish cry and I looked away. Danny had one hand under Rixon's shirt, moving north.

* * *

One had something in his hand, a gun or knife—something smooth and shiny—and reached out to nick Boyd. He caught his wrist, grinding tendon and bone with supernatural strength, raising his arm upward to make the weapon useless.

Vee swiped out, claws shredding the Kevlar vest of the hunter in front of her.

Patch, lightning quick, transitioned the arm he was holding to the back of the hunter, moving upward until the rotary cuff snapped. Arm limp, Patch threw him into the mouth of the alley, slamming into the bricks like a freight train.

Boyd grabbed the back of the hunter Vee was dealing with, and yanked him. Kneeling, Boyd ripped out his claws and growled, eyes dim but fangs flashing.

Derek turned to look, and Vee screamed.

Two hunters had boxed him in. Triggering their Tasers, the wires shot out to sink into Derek's chest. Vee gaped. The hunter on the left was Ulrich. A ball of blinding white-hot light burst from Derek's chest, zapping hazardous sparks of energy.

* * *

Rixon's back met mine as we changed positions. Lionel was facing me, and Danny was looking ahead with Rixon in front of him. Erica had her hand over Jackson's neck, providing the coverage he needed to slip the ketamine needle out from his back pocket. Erica smiled, innocently, at Jackson, whose face was mixed with the teenage arousal they had sparked enough to lead him astray from his lethal mission.

* * *

Fangs poking out from his lips, Derek grabbed Ulrich's Taser wire, agony writhing over his face. It intensified the shocks, sparking higher energy volts through his body like a conductor. Reaching out for the other one, a wave of blue light licked up to his neck, stabbing red skin.

Grinding his teeth, Derek crossed the wires, crashing the two hunters together. Their bodies dropped.

A whistling past Vee's ear. She dodged the bullet, swaying to the left so it sank into the dumpster, spilling garbage. Boyd growled, on all fours arraigning toward the hunter with a revolver. Fumbling to put another bullet it, Boyd smacked into him, chest first, splitting the hunter's head open on the cold, hard concrete.

Patch wondered toward Derek. He had changed deeper into transformation. Eyes persimmon orange and naked ears, not furry, knifed to a point. Those, with his narrow canines, were the minor transformative parts. His shirtsleeves had ripped. Just past the crease of his elbow carroty orange fur had grown, layering his skin. His hand was coated in the pelt, hand longer and wrist floppier. His fingers were surpassed with narrowing nails until the unretractable reedy, bone hard, black claws grew from the centre of his fur-caked fingers. At his back, just above his pelvis, near the lumbar part of the spine, a tail smoked out, orange and poufy and incrusted with a white aciculate tip. Patch raised his hand, claws sprinkling moonbeams, and snicked out the Taser wires in Derek's chest.

* * *

Isaac's hand tightened on the needle. He reached out, getting a view of his neck, giving a chaste lick at the vein. Jackson's face twisted, hardening under a rockslide of supressed emotion. Butting foreheads, Jackson's kanima claws—wickedly venom-injecting claws—sank into Isaac's side, giving Erica a twin scratch.

Their mouths opened to scream silently with wrenching looks. Anger fuelled inside of me. Jackson spat something I couldn't hear, and let my Betas drop to the floor like ragdolls tumbling down stairs, needle forgotten, and Jackson advanced. Eyes narrowing on my target, I spun Lionel, who had hooking two thumbs into my short jean shorts, and Rixon did the same. Danny and Lionel met, uncaringly tossing caution to the wind and began groping each other in the beat.

"We're Plan B, love," Rixon jibbed in that charming Irish accent, "What do we do?"

We were forces of nature. Rixon was a whirlwind, capable of ripping tree trunks out of the soil, wrapping everything around his whipping winds. I was an earthquake, shattering and crashing the Earth down around anyone who was in my path. "You get the needle, get ready."

"And you?" He smiled, impishly.

"I'll stop Jackson. Get the needle, Rixon."

Rixon and I shoved past the bodies flowing, a foot kicking the needle away, scraping it down the dance floor. Jackson was lost somewhere ahead, I searched ahead, past Lionel and Danny but instead found Erica writhed on the floor, claws scraping. Bending to her, I asked, "Where's Isaac?"

"Love." Rixon said, pointing, dragging me by the arm back up.

Facial muscles twitching, Isaac plunged the needle down into Jackson's neck, vein throbbing. He nosed Jackson's ear, grinding against him covertly to disguise the ketamine running through Jackson, incapacitating him as Isaac carried him away.

"I'll bring her." Rixon said, scooping Erica into his arms.

My phone played out Stiles' ringtone. Clamping an a hand over my ear, I answered, "Yeah! The plan worked, Isaac's bringing him to the storage unit!"

"It's not that." Stiles shouted back. "I mean that's great, but Scott's not answering his phone. I can hear gunfire just around the corner and we're out of mountain ash. There wasn't even enough to complete the circle!"

"Where are you right now?"

"Just at the bend. I can see my Jeep. I'm standing here with my dick in one hand and a handful of fucking dust in the other!" Stiles squabbled.

"Stiles, calm down, I'm coming outside." I said, Rixon was waiting with Erica draped over his arms. "I have to go. Just go to the storage unit like we planned. Stiles is having some, uh, issues, we'll meet you there in a bit. Don't touch Jackson!"

Sprinting to the exit, I battled through the mass of close-knit bodies. Hands that snaked out to fight back, I shoved through, ignoring them with furious steps of my long legs, careful of where I treaded. Faces above me were mixed with irrigation and confusion. One girl, who had a heart on her cheek and strawberry blonde, collided into my path. There was a sudden distinct familiarity about her hidden freckles. Words rushed to my mind. Sophomore. Varsity cheerleader. Marcie. But I disregarded them with a sweep of my arm, shoving her skinny waist out of the way until cold night air stung my heated skin.

I looked for Stiles' Jeep, dropping down the small degree and rounding the bend. Slowly, but surely, my eyes registered the black streaks of powder along the wall and I followed them until I met Stiles.

"Nora!" He shouted, throwing his head back. "Thank God."

"Stiles. You don't have enough mountain ash?"

"That's what I told you over the phone."

"And Scott isn't picking up, either." I said, bitterly. "What did he say? Deaton, when he gave you the bag."

Stiles ran through it, mentally. "He said it was something only I could do, that I, uh, that I had to be a spark. Yeah, like the spark that ignites gunpowder."

"And let me guess, you made some joke about lighting yourself on fire?" His winning smirk was all I needed to know as clarification. "Then what?"

Clicking together in his brain, looking up with intent, purpose, Stiles said, "Believe. He said I had to believe, had to picture it in my mind and believe like in a Disney film."

"Okay, believe Stiles." I said. "Just picture it and imagine it working."

Stiles eyes locked onto the license plate of a black car. "Imagination is more important than knowledge." He read, transfixed, enchanted.

"Arguably." I agreed.

Stiles closed his eyes.

"Yes, okay, okay, believe it, Stiles. Picture the ash forming a perfect circle around the warehouse, picturing it working and believe in it."

Stiles breathed slowly, fist out, and began to walk past me, flicking open his eyes. The ash slipped through the opening of his curled fingers, sieving like sand in an hourglass. His skin was so translucent, the blue veins forking the back of his hand stuck out, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed so far back I could see his arm hair trailing down.

Undying focus and dedication strode him forward with careful steps. The ash fell from his twitching hand, the last grains skirting through his fingers. Stiles' shoulders fell. I started toward him, to reach out and touch him and tell him it wasn't his fault, not at all. Slapping the back of his thigh to brush off the ash clinging to his palm, Stiles looked down, hearing my footsteps.

The ash was in a line.

A line that continued all the wall down, until it was out of sight.

And back toward the other side, where it disappeared from view around the bend.

"Stiles you did it!"

He laughed, the sound rich and childlike, throwing his fists up, "Yes!" Bouncing around and dancing with glee, Stiles turned to me.

We met halfway. I had strode forward to congratulate him, and he still his arms raised over his head to hug me. Our shoes knocked together, and we looked down. Slowly, he brought his hands down to couple my waist. Slinging my arms around his rucked up shirt, arms sliding against his bare skin, I circled and made my hands meet at his back, under his plaid shirt.

Tipping my head up, his lips brushed mine. His tongue prodded the line between my lips, and I let him come between them. In one sweep, he ran his tongue through my top teeth. I nibbled on his bottom lip, sliding my tongue against his mouth. Gasping for breath, I broke the kiss and turned away, up at the sky, to glare at the moon.

"Uh, sorry, I'm I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

"No, no, it was my fault. I mean, I looked up and…"

"But I didn't have to kiss you."

"I was going to say the same thing. And I could have pushed you back."

"I could have broken the kiss." Stiles continued.

"It was both our fault."

He nodded. "Yeah." He looked down, hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet.

"Um, good job on the mountain ash."

He looked up and beamed. My insides twisted. "Thanks!"

"We should probably go inside. Jackson's out cold."

"Ketamine worked?"

"Yeah, c'mon."

Back inside the club, Stiles stared open-mouthed at the jumping, bouncing, glowstick-waving bodies surrounding him. Lionel was where we left him, moving to the beat of the music with three other girls surrounding him. By their body languages, they were trying to get his attention, flirting with him. Danny wasn't there, and there was no time to look for him.

Stiles opened the door. Erica and Isaac stalked towards him. "It's just us! It's just us!" Isaac had a hand raised, to punch? Stiles locked the door behind me. Rixon bobbed his head, leaping off the dirty toilet he had sat on. "Freak." Stiles mused to Isaac, who let the insult wash off him.

"He okay?" Stiles asked.

"Well," Isaac said, "Let's find out!" He flicked out his claws, and twisted his wrist, ready to shred Jackson.

Before coming anywhere near him, Jackson's hand reached out to steady Isaac's arm. Bones popped and crunched, Isaac whimpering, all the while Jackson remained with his eyes shut. He brought Isaac to his knees, the assault on his wrist continuing to crackle his bones until he saw fit to release.

Isaac ran back to my side with his tail between his legs. Rixon put a hand at his back, rubbing carelessly.

"Okay, no one does anything like that again, okay?" Stiles ordered, looking around. Erica nodded vigorously, swallowing her fear.

"Argh," Isaac grunted, holding his injured wrist, "I thought the ketamine was supposed to put him out." He moaned, gritting his teeth and looking up.

"Yeah, well, apparently, this is all we're going to get." Stiles dropped his hand. "So let's hope that whoever's controlling him decided to show up tonight."

Jackson was sprawled over the chair, with too tight dark blue jeans and a grey and black shirt with a V button down. As if being struck by something, Jackson shook. His eyes snapped open, glazed over and looking up at the ceiling, his head bent at an awkward angle. The material of my vest was clinging to my skin, my spine and thighs sweating copiously.

"I'm here." It said, with a startlingly gravelly echo. Stiles and Rixon looked up from Isaac's wrist, and Erica and I stared at what we never stopped staring at. Something possessing Jackson. Isaac's baby blues looked up, too. "I'm right here with you."

* * *

Vee had her back planted to a wall, slouching and breathing hard.

"I think I stopped healing," Boyd managed to spit out, between the pain. Derek looked over and sighed.

"Bullets." He explained, chest heaving. "Laced with wolfsbane."

Vee was fine, she hadn't been hit by any. Derek hadn't either. Boyd and Patch had taken most of the blows. One bright spot of red coloured Boyd's white shirt, his grey hoodie fallen open. Vee stopped to stare at his dark face, the sweat lining his upper lip. He looked so young.

"You two gotta go." Derek said. "You're in worse condition that him, Patch." He had a hand to his gut, blood overflowing his fingers. Bullet wounds riddled his partly naked chest, his leather jacket spattered with blood. "Jesus, how many did they get you with?" Patch didn't answer, breathing laboured. "Take the car." Derek ordered Boyd. "Take him to the station. You know how to use wolfsbane to heal?"

Patch raised one hand, unwrapping his fingers around a golden-capped bullet with iridescent purple powder markings. "Burn it and use the powder as a solve on the wound." He gurgled. Patch had reverted to his human form, hands, ears, canines, eyes and tail all gone.

"Perfect." Derek said.

"What about you two?" Boyd asked, stubbornly.

"I have to find Scott."

"I'll come with." Vee said, motioning to her body. "Haven't got a scratch on me."

Derek nodded, something resembling respect gleaming in his eyes as he looked to Vee, then around their shelter. "Go." He said, softly. Patch began to straddle into a sitting. "Take him." Derek commanded, in his Alpha-vocal-strings-thick voice. Boyd threw an arm over Patch's shoulder. "Go!"

Boyd carried Patch to the Camaro.

"Looks like it's just me…" He dragged in lungfuls of air, still having trouble catching his breath. "And you, Sky."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Hale." Vee said, refusing to meet his spring green eyes and see the curve of his smile. Vee preferred to think of his as a sourwolf, period. It'd be better that way, no emotional attachment. As best friend, she had to hate Nora's boyfriends.

It still didn't stop her from squeezing Derek's big, rough hand, though, for moral support, before leaping past Argent's hiding spot.

* * *

Erica was huddled beside me. She had noticed that I needed her werewolf warmth. Rixon and Isaac were sharing the toilet seat now, with Isaac's healing hand fixed. Stiles patted his pants up, kneeling down in front of the doll someone was using to talk through. Formerly called Jackson.

"Jackson is that you?" Stiles asked, softly hesitant with a tender care I didn't know he had for the jock.

"Us." The voice wavered. "We're all here." It had a shadow of Jackson's voice behind it, but was almost completely a stranger's. There was almost no familiarity behind that demanding, sharply cold voice.

Jackson's hands were lifeless on his lamp, his legs spread, his neck bent at that crooked angle. His clear blue eyes never left the ceiling. "Are you the one killing people?" Stiles asked, quietly, so that you had to listen closely.

"We're the ones killing murderers." The voice corrected, touchily disgusted. Isaac had both hands on his knees. He looked toward Erica.

"So all the people you've killed so far…" He trailed off, letting the voice pick up where he left off.

"Deserved it."

"So you got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers." Stiles voice was patronizing, trying to pull some clue of emotion as to who this mystery voice was.

"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied." That sounded like it had been said multiple times, to convince oneself of its validity.

"Right, so the people you're killing are all murders, then?"

"All." It said. "Each. Every one."

"Well who did they murder?" It was the final push, the final leaping boundary to cross.

"Me." It said. He said. My knees shook.

"Wait, what, what do you mean?" Stiles asked. Silent sobs began to raise my chest, inky black tendrils swaying into the corners of my vision. When was the last time I had my iron pills? One, two, _three_ days?

"They murdered me." It repeated, with a vengeance, a vehemence. I was crying, quietly. Rixon and Isaac stood, backing up against the wall. Erica's fingertips touched the back of my neck, and in her heels she was taller than me. She pressed my face into the crook of her neck, consoling me. She didn't know what was wrong, but she was as petrified as anyone else.

"Nora?" Stiles asked.

"Love?" Rixon touched my sleeve, pulling lightly.

I heard small cracks, like wood groaning under weight, and turned. Jackson's eyes were slitty, red where there should be white and an orangey yellow where there should be iris. A vein was pronounced down his forehead, from his hairline to the start of his eyebrows. "They murdered me." He repeated.

"Dad?" I whispered, breaking down, everything about me was, my body was shaking and cold, my eyes stung with unshed tears, my cheeks were frigidly hard, my shoulders felt like they were about to break, my muscles exerted, a white mist wrapped around my mind. "I-Is that you? Are you doing this?"

Erica gasped.

He didn't answer. He lifted his Shifting scaled arm, transparent, hooked claws resting on his knee. "Okay." Stiles said, taking charge. Erica was holding the door with one hand to steady herself. "All right. More ketamine. The man needs ketamine, c'mon."

Rixon raised the empty bottle. "Ain't none left, mate."

Stiles closed his eyes, then turned to Isaac. "You used the whole bottle?" Isaac stared back innocently. Stiles ripped the bottle out of Rixon's hand. Erica tapped Stiles on the shoulder, speechlessly staring at Jackson with her well-done makeup and her hoop earrings. This was supposed to be a good night for her. It wasn't. Isaac was staring wide-eyed.

Jackson rose from the chair, pupils fully dilated and latched onto the five of us. We couldn't overpower him, even with two werewolves and three humans. The kanima and its master, my father, were more powerful than anything we had against the two of them.

Jackson blared, hissing so low it sounded like growling, black razor teeth all on display. His head began to spin so fast it was blurry, whipping every which way savagely with a gnashing of the teeth.

"Okay." Stiles said simply. "Out. Everybody out."

Erica had her hand on the doorknob, and was first out the door, her hand in mine forcing me along with her. Stiles next, then Isaac who grabbed Rixon's shoulder and tossed him in front of him. The five of us crashed, fumbled, and blocked the door with our smashed bodies.

"Quick, find something to barricade the door." Stiles said.

Erica looked at the wall beside her. The rafters and metallic door split, the kanima scurrying away with its prehensile tail snapping behind it like a black-scaled cape.

"Too late." Rixon mumbled. "We need to find its target. We need to follow it!"

"What we need is Derek." I said, not giving anyone enough time to argue otherwise. Grabbing Stiles' hand in my right and Erica's in my left, I trudged the way outside with Isaac on my tail. Stiles walked ahead, breaking the link. Then Erica, who fell into step behind with Isaac. Rixon was lost. Probably looking for the kanima back inside. He had pulled out a gun from his waistband.

* * *

Derek and Vee were jogging up the path, following the mountain ash up to the cinder block building until the warehouse's entrance was exposed. Vee could have written a book on the feeling mountain ash gave her. Which was really something, since Vee had never given book-writing a chance. To state something like this meant _something_.

It was subtle, yet powerful. Like a force field. You only realized just how influential it was when you saw the actual glimmer of power through that see-through wall. And that Stiles, a human, had done something like that gave Vee the chills.

It prickled the roots of her hair, emitting a vibe that was just wrong against Vee's being. The line of black dust formed a perfect ring around the whole warehouse, spreading the dread in wavelengths to all werewolves around. Its scent was subtle, unlike any other tree or dust she had smelt before. The black dust almost made her feel weak, powerless, like wolfsbane. Only wolfsbane had less of an effect on her, and when it did it was immediate. Not the profoundly mind-playing thrumming the mountain ash gave off.

Stiles walked out of the entrance, throwing looks over his shoulder at Nora, who came up behind him looking correspondingly as miserable. Vee smelt… failure? Rotten oranges was failure. Good to know, Vee thought, mentally checking it off her scent list.

"Hey, um…" Stiles began, "So we kinda lost Jackson inside, but it's…" He trailed off, mind scattered.

Isaac and Erica walked through, holding the door open for a taller, lanky dark-haired nineteen-year-old Vee was proud to call her boyfriend. He hopped over the black dust, not even making an indent with the wind on it. Standing by her side, their fingertips touching, he waited for Erica and Isaac to join them on the other end.

"They can't cross, remember?" Vee said.

"Oh, that's right." Rixon said.

Both Betas glared at the black powder with more than contented fear in their eyes. Isaac bent down, getting as close to the line as he dared without even dropping from the pedestal. He reared his head, slowly looking up at Erica, who reflected his anxiety in her too-pretty face.

Stiles was ecstatic. "Oh my God, it's working!" He declared, triumphantly, hands outward. "Urgh, this is…" He trailed off on the s, letting it extend as he balled his fists and shook them, again. Nora stared, bewildered, at him, as Derek looked on. "I did something." Stiles bragged, to Derek.

"Where's—" Nora began.

A miserable, pain anguished growl roared through the night. Scott's howl.

"Scott." Derek said.

"Yeah." Nora said. "Does anyone know where he is?"

"Break it." Derek told Stiles.

"What?" Stiles jerked. "No way!"

"Scott's dying!" Vee put in, disentangling from Rixon.

"Okay, what, how do you know that?" Stiles asked, idiotically calm.

"Oh my G—Stiles, we just know, break it!" Derek hollered.

Stiles threw up his hands.

Nora, dropping to her knees, closed her eyes in concentration. Stiles put a hand to her back. Coming naturally, she swept her palms outward parting the line with the slicing wind caused by her hands.

Grabbing both their shoulders and squeezing, Derek ran off inside. Vee followed, putting pressure on Rixon's fingers and leaving him with Nora, Stiles and the two Betas that had disappeared.

Derek opened the door, flashing white light hitting his back. Vee filed in after him, sharp spikes being thrown into her nose. Holding her breath, Vee narrowed her eyes. The source of the smell was coming from a machine in the corner of the empty room, beside a spring mattress, that was hissing purple mist—wolfsbane—into the air.

Scott was on the floor in his red hoodie and black jeans, sprawled out, his ears tipped. Wolfed out.

A woman jumped behind Derek. She arched her arm, a glinting silver flashing, carving into Derek's back. He screamed, blood splashing in thick red drops. Vee whipped out her arm, staggering Victoria Argent back. She should have known, with that shock of red hair and powdery white skin.

Vicki slashed at the air, Vee ducked, pointing her stiletto at the older woman's Achilles heel. Derek stubbed her wrist, slapping his other hand down onto her dagger-wielding hand to clatter it to the floor. Vee kicked it away.

The huntress, as Derek turned to expose his back to her in the blow, pushed him to the wall. Vee sought out the wolfsbane. Scott was no longer coughing, no longer breathing. Panic began to settle in, and she cracked out the heel of her boot to smash in the vaporizer.

Derek growled behind Vee, and she turned to see him tumble to the floor. Followed by the sound of high heels clipping away. Derek rolled Scott over.

"Do you know CPR?" Vee asked.

Derek shook his head. "Just grab his legs." Derek hauled Scott up by the shoulders, legs dangling. Vee grabbed his denim-clad ankles, lifting effortlessly. "Got a car?"

"Purple Neon." Vee said. "Parked beside the Mustang and Jeep."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Of course you would have a car like that."

"Okay, I'm gonna ignore that." Vee hissed. "Where are we taking him?"

"To the vets." Derek said, popping the car door of Vee's Neon.

* * *

Hours later, Derek and Vee had fallen asleep on the same chair. They were too tired to continue fighting over the seat. Vee was half-draped over his lap. If she had been more than semiconscious she'd have gotten off, but sleep had fatigued her muscles and she had practically collapsed on top of him.

Scott was laid out on the metal table, Deaton tending to his wounds. Deaton tapped the side of his head, affectionately. Scott's eyes drifted open, for a smidgen of a second, but then dropped again in exhaustion.

"Thank you." Derek said, plainly. Vee rolled her eyes as Derek tried to wiggle her off. She bent to kneel at the side of his chair, knees popping, and placed the white bandage to his elbow. The wound would clot, the cotton was to stop infection. A small smile graced Derek's lips. "And thank you, Sky, for fighting with me tonight."

"It wasn't for you." Vee snapped. "Nothing I'll ever do to help you will be for you. Nora's the one you should thank. Without her, I wouldn't be in your pack. And neither would Scott, probably. Or Erica, Boyd and probably not Isaac either."

"I know, I know." Derek said. "I owe Nora everything."

Vee patted his thigh. "So treat her well." She held the cloth to his arm, blaming her good-nature on the sleepiness that was threatening to overtake her. For the second time that night, Vee picked up a private conversation with her werewolf hearing.

"I can't decide if I admire your sentimentality or despise it." Came Ms. Morrell's clear, smooth voice.

"If I want your opinion," Deaton's deep voice answered, "I'll make an appointment with the guidance office."

"From the state of things, I think you could use a little guidance." Ms. Morrell said. "Are you really going to leave all of this up to a couple of kids?"

"They're more capable than you think."

"And are you going to tell them what's coming?"

Deaton looked down the hall, at the entryway where the three werewolves were licking their wounds. "They've had enough to worry about." If Vee wasn't so darn tired, she would have marched into that room to demand what was coming.

* * *

Stiles parked in the farmhouse's driveway. "She died." I said, numbly. "Did your father get to know her name, at least?"

"Kara Simmons." Stiles said. Daphne, Christie, Kathleen, Brenda, Jade, Shena, Collete, Patrick, Maloria, Johnny and Anna Basso, I read, off the list. "She's not on the list."

"And we have no leads." I crumped up the piece of paper, handing it back to him. "Do you at least want your red hoodie back? This shirt?"

Stiles smiled, sensitively. "Nah, they look better on you."

* * *

"I'm saying," Derek mumbled, walking into the subway cart in the middle of the deport. "We need a new plan because next time, one of us is going to be too hurt to heal." He stepped up the stairs, followed by Scott and Vee.

"I get it," Scott said, hand wrapping around a cold and rough poll. Derek sat down on one of the disbanded seats. Even if Vee was paid, she wouldn't sit in those rat-infested cushions. "We can't save Jackson."

"We can't seem to kill him, either." Derek remarked, shoulders hunching. "I've seen a lot of thing. I've never seen anything like this." He sighed, roughly like a snort, in defeat. "Every new moon's only gonna make him stronger."

"Then, how do we stop him?" Vee asked.

"I don't know." Derek said, shaking his head. "I don't even know if we can."

"Maybe we should just let the Argents handle it." Scott said.

"I'm the one who turned him." Derek droned. "It's my fault."

"Yeah, but you didn't turn him into this." Vee protested. Derek hung his head. "This happened because of something in his past. Right?"

"That's a legend in a book!" Derek disputed. "It's not that simple."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked. "What are you not telling us?"

"Why do you think I'm always keeping something from you?" Derek shot back, scrunching up his face.

Scott came back with a whooping, "Because you always are keeping something from me!"

Vee felt like she had been dropped into something very personal.

"Maybe I do it to protect you." Derek said, nodding.

"Doesn't…" Scott stalled, struggling to follow through with his sentence, "Being part of your park means no more secrets?"

"Go home, Scott. Sleep. Heal. Make sure your friends are okay. Because the full moon's coming and with the way things are going, I have a feeling it's going to be a rough one."

"And me?" Vee asked. "What should I do? I don't need to heal. My boyfriend, my best friend and my pack are okay."

"You," Derek said to Vee, "Need to help me."

"With what?" Vee asked, feeling something conspicuous cross her mind.

"With Nora." Derek said. "I need you to teach me how to…"

"Connect with her?" Vee mocked.

"Understand her." Derek said. "You're her best friend, teach me about her." Vee smirked. Derek swallowed. "Please?"


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9: SPRING BREAK

For the weekend, right after the failure of a plan that occurred at the rave, Mom was home. Which was good. I didn't want to have to miss another check-in call when she'd be out of town on work, and have her yell at me about it later when she got home. Her picking out my outfit.

She had set out a pitcher of milk with a bowl of strawberries. There was herbal-smelling tea in a mug between her hands. Smiling, with her hair in the arrangement of a porcupine's quills, she said, "Good morning."

"Morning." I replied, shaking some shredded wheat into a cereal bowl. Adding the strawberries and layering it off with some semi-skimmed milk, I said, "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"No," Mom said, taking a sip of her tea, "How about you? It's spring break."

"I'll be keeping it on the down-low, don't worry mom."

Raising her eyebrows meaningfully, she said, "After the rave last night I did think you got all of that gone wild stuff out of your system." Her laughing was provocative, causing my stomach to stir. My father was the kanima master. No one believed me, not even Vee, but I felt him. I had been feeling him this whole time and it wasn't because he was alive and living somewhere else, nobody had made a mistake with the closed casket. My father was dead. And possessing my friend, Jackson, to kill the people who killed him. Or who he thought killed him.

He killed a hunter, which was an understandable, but not an excusable, murder. As far as I knew Bennett may have been involved in The Silver Hand and or in my father's death before joining the Argents. He was twenty-four, as were and are all of the deceased and remaining targets of the kanima, so far. All twenty-four. Which would make them, about six years ago, eighteen years old at the time of the fire. My dad died a few months into his investigation, maybe two to three weeks after Laura's death.

The victims/remaining targets being eighteen means they were legal. Legal to do many things; drink, drive, vote. Also purchase guns and ammo. An even scarier thought.

The mechanic, the husband and wife and the rave organizer, Kara Simmons, were also targets that were killed. There were no connections I could make between them, by myself. Stiles did notice that the mechanic, Tucker, was on the lacrosse team. And although Kara wasn't in the chemistry class the others were, save for Bennett, there could have still been a connection between them all. A hunter connection running bone-deep instead of just skin-deep. Tucker, the athlete, Bennett, the hunter, the husband and wife with a Romeo and Juliet ending story. Kara Simmons… was she even in Beacon Hills High School?

"No boys–related, um, issues?" Mom's eyebrows were lost in her hairline. "Not even Matt?"

"Matt took Allison to the rave last night." I mumbled, incoherent enough for Mom to ask me to repeat that. I didn't, just munched on my cereal and glared at her. "Do you have anything to say to me, Mom?"

"Actually," She set down her mug. "I do." Pulling a resounding, patient but strict face on, she said, "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now about your bed."

"What about my bed?" I asked, feeling an odd sensation creep down my back. Sweat.

"I know you're a teenager, but it… Nora, your bed smells like a man." Mom paused. "I don't know if you haven't been showering lately or wearing some unisex perfume, but your sheets are always very rumpled and testosterone-smelling."

Derek. He was scenting my bed.

"You guessed it, Mom." I said, around a grin. "Unisex perfume."

Sighing, Mom went to drop her mug in the sink. "What've I told you about drugstore perfume?" She said, quietly, almost to herself. The thought of telling Mom about Derek both frightened me and exhilarated me. I wanted my mom to know about Derek, about how much I loved him, but it was clear she wasn't ready for that. Her reaction was too unpredictable, given the six year age gap. I wasn't ready either, given that I sweated at the mention of my bed, my brain associating sleep with warmth and warmth with Derek.

A loud knocking ensued from the door. My mom, who had just ran enough water to fill her mug up to the brim, left the kitchen to investigate.

Half a beat later, the door swung in on its hinges and my mom, voice startled, said, "Lionel! How lovely to see you."

"You too, Ms. Grey." He said, politely, although I could hear the smug air around his mouth twitching into a smile. He had no respect for any kind of authority, be it the law or the older generation. I had decided that the first moment I met him, a snap judgement that I was sticking to. Lionel seemed like the kind of guy to drink, even though he was only a year older than me, and smoke marijuana without a medicinal card. In other words, Lionel loved the thrill of being a rebel. That much was clear. "Is Nora home?"

"She's just in the kitchen." Mom said. "Would you like to come in?"

"Outside is fine." Lionel said, a knee-jerk reply. "I like the fresh air." He added, lamely.

"Nora." Mom called, walking into the kitchen in a strung-up way, like a doll would. "Lionel's here to see you." She said. I got up from the table. "Make it quick." Mom added, her hand circled over my bicep. Mom wasn't too fond of Lionel. Neither was I, to be honest. He had an edge around him, this animalistic grace that Scott seemed to be able to hide with a sunny aura.

I remembered thinking how Derek was the same, this dark, dense cloud following him around that made him bitter and grumpy. Lionel wasn't either of those things, and yet his cloud was darker and desnser than Derek's. It just meant he had been through more, my mind told me. That he's suffered through this lycanthrope in ways you can't imagine.

But, boiled down, what could be worse than losing your family in a fire set by the woman you thought you loved? Whatever caused Lionel to be a jerk couldn't top what caused Derek to be partially bi-polar.

I walked into the doorway, finding him slouching on the wall outside the screen door. With an easy smile aimed at me, he crooked a finger.

Sparks of cold slipping up my feet, I gently stepped out from the inside of the house onto the slot in front of the welcome mat. "Sorry for ditching you at the rave." I said, being careful to not shut the door completely. "A friend had this asthma emergency." Not a total lie, quenching the mass guilt I was feeling. Half of what I said to Lionel was lies, and he was someone who was potentially useful. Sure, if he offered to break off our friendship I wouldn't cry about it, but he had a tough life. The Silver Hand brander's ring on his finger said so. He was hand-picked to be assassinated, branded, then offered a chance to fight in a pack of nameless wolves. Couldn't blame him for being… sketchy.

"It's fine." Lionel said. "I did get to meet some of your friends, which was cool. Patch came by to pick up Danny, who had a little too much to drink." Lionel grinned. "Probably nursing a hangover right now."

"Are you?" I asked.

"Nah." Lionel said. "I don't get drunk very easily." Did that apply to all werewolves?

"So what are you doing here?"

"I just came by to ask you if you'd consider going out with me again. Since it's spring break and all, battle of the bands is next Tuesday. You'd love it, loud unrehearsed music, unruly crowds, scandalous sex in the bathrooms." With a sadistically ironic smile, he added, "Just your scene."

He was making fun of me, calling me a fuss. Saying I couldn't handle it. As much as I would love to have disagreed, he had a point. The Z was a little too much action for me, it almost got me killed when I stepped in with the electrified baton and I risked Marcie seeing me, as well as Patch and Derek's lives who were there to protect me. A little for Marcie, but mostly for me!

"C'mon, Nora," He persisted in a flatter, vaguer tone, "I've got something to show you."

Clearing my throat, I asked, "When are you signing up for school?"

"I start next Monday, right after spring break."

"Well, we'll have plenty of time to plan something then because I'm actually busy—"

"You have plans?" Lionel asked, scepticism leaking into his tone dryly. "Through all of spring break? With who? Your blonde BFF or your bug-collecting boyfriend?"

"Bug-collecting?" I let the insult creep into my tone.

Lionel coughed into his fist to smother a rumbling laugh. "When you told me you had a boyfriend, I just assumed he'd be like you."

Involuntarily, my eyes narrowed. "I don't collect bugs."

"But you do study." Lionel countered, enjoying the verbal sparring much more than I. "A lot. And listen to drowsy music, like cello. Hell, I'll bet you play the cello. I will give you one piece of advice, though." His smug grin had taken a feral turn, showing big white teeth, lips skinning back.

"And what's that?"

"Dye your hair." Keeping a straight face, he said, "Redheads are… a liability."

My mouth opened, but I shut it automatically. "I do not have red hair!" I protested, nostrils flaring. "I'm a brunette!"

"It couldn't get any redder—"

"So you think I'm an anal retentive redhead, is that it?"

Lionel looked at a loss for words, which was a first. "You stole the thoughts right out of my head."

"What time's battle of the bands?"

"Late." He said. "Like, really late. I'll come by after midnight."

"And what should I wear?"

Lionel beamed. "As little as humanly possible."

"F-Fine." Clearing my throat again to hide the stutter in my voice and cracking my knuckles in an indisciplinary habit, I leaned my hip against the outside of the door. "But I really do have plans for today, so I'm sorry we can't hang out."

"Who with?"

"Me." An Irish voice swam up the stairs to the farmhouse. A mop of inky dark hair, thick like Derek's, bobbed up to show the long features of Rixon and his tall, lanky body. I could see his angel wings tattoo on his shoulder, his grey tee sleeveless. "She's coming out with me for the day." Winking, he added, "Aren't ya, lass?"

"I am?" I asked.

"She is?" Lionel asked.

"Of course." Rixon said. "So go get dressed."

* * *

After Rixon saved me from having to spend the day with Lionel, I invited him into the farmhouse as I finished my cereal and went upstairs to change into decent clothing. All the while, my mom peppered him with questions. She seemed to overload on the fact he was Vee's boyfriend, which irrefutably meant he was trouble.

"And where do you plan on taking Nora, Rixon?" She asked, voice warm but seething.

"Oh, just to a picnic in the park beside Vee's house."

"Is she coming?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Rixon asked back, flipping up from the door he was leaning on to open it when he saw me come down the stairs. "She'll be back around… five?"

Mom kissed me on the cheek. "Thirty."

"Thanks again for saving me from Lionel." I repeated inside Rixon's car, as he sped down the road. "I don't know how I would have gotten out of that one."

"I still don't understand why you don't just tell the boy you know about him." Rixon said, nodding. "If he knows you know, isn't he more likely to want to join Derek's pack for protection?"

"It's too soon. I don't know him well enough to suggest he join Derek's pack, and he already has a pack that he joined out of fear. Derek thinks having a Born werewolf in the pack will increase power and chances of defending ourselves from the kanima. Plus, he could come in handy when teaching the other three Bitten Betas. Especially with the full moon coming up." I paused, looking out the window. "Although I do think I'm closer to getting him to confess."

"And what if he does? What are you going to say?"

"That I knew all along, and that I'm here to help from whatever hunters, kanimas or whatever may hurt him."

"So what makes you think he'll leave his old pack for Derek?"

"He doesn't know anybody there." I said. "He only joined because he wants to fight back, he doesn't want to be another werewolf branded and slaughtered by The Silver Hand. I was thinking we offer him a place in the pack, ask him to help us out with everything, then we go after The Silver Hand together. Once everything with—" I swallowed a lump that dissolved in my throat, "—Jackson is resolved, he won't have any reason to fear."

"What if The Silver Hand make their move before you all fix Jackson?"

"We'll protect him. That's the whole point. In this other pack, the would-be Alpha, who may not even be a werewolf, doesn't care enough to let them meet their packmates in case The Silver Hand catch them and torture them for information. That's how much he cares. With Derek and I, he'll be looked after. Have a sense of belonging in the pack."

"You're not a werewolf, and you're the female Alpha of Derek's pack." Rixon said, accusatorily.

"That's different. Derek divided his power with me. What this guy's doing is just rounding up the werewolves he's branded in his own personal vendetta—"

"How?" Rixon interrupted.

"What?"

"How did Derek divide his Alpha power with you?" He asked. "I know the story about The Silver Hand. I know a lot of things. But I've never heard of an Alpha sharing their power."

"I've never asked Derek that myself." I admitted, hands playing in my lap. "The answer would scare me."

"But if you had to guess…?" Rixon prompted, stealing a half a beat from the road to look over at me. "What would you say?"

I was thoughtful for a while. Then, "I think it's a like a bond. Something you can't feel, but you know is there. A metaphysical connection that's strengthened with every kiss, every touch. Just like a mother's affection grows for her child every time it wets itself and she has to change it, or it hurts itself and she has to help it. Power. Shared and transgressed with every trusting moment and every time one of us slots some weight off the other's shoulder. We share it, because it's a burden. And Derek chose me because… because…"

"Because he loves you." Rixon stated. "Doesn't he?"

"Yeah. Yes. He does. And I love him, too."

"If you've said that to each other then the bond must be as strong as ever."

"I don't think it works that way. I don't think there's necessarily a limit to how much power he holds and gives. There's just him, power and me. Three interlocking pieces of a puzzle that fit." I corrected. "No chains or ties."

"Meaning?"

I thought back to what I saw that first full moon in Lydia's bathroom, the swirling red water forming a triskele. The foreshadowing moment of my life, where the tattoo meant Derek and the red water meant his Alpha power. It all swirled down the drain, and in a blink it was gone. A hallucination. "Nothing." I said. "Nothing at all. So where are you taking me?"

"Didn't believe the picnic story, huh?"

"Vee hates picnics. Is she meeting up with us?"

"No, I thought it would be nice to just get some one-on-one time with my girlfriend's best friend." Rixon smiled. "Hope you ditto that, because I put a lot of thought into where we're going."

"And that would be?"

"See, I know you're a good shot, so I thought we could bond in a shooting range."

"Oh." I said. "My dad used to go to a shooting range in college. Wait. How did you know I was a good shot? I've never even held a gun in front of you."

Rixon struggled to keep himself from stuttering. "Patch told me." He said, regaining his cool. "He tells me everything." I opened my mouth to speak. "We're here." Rixon cut the engine of his truck, sliding out to open the door on the other side for me.

I ignored his outstretched hand, lightly laughing at the gesture. The hairs had risen at the bad of my neck, a cold sweat was beginning to spring forth. My reaction was ridiculous! This was Rixon! Patch's best friend, Vee's boyfriend. I didn't have to be cautious of him. He smiled impishly at me, opening the glass door at the front of the building. A bell chimed our entrance.

"Rixon!" A woman at the front desk cheered. She was middle-aged redhead with ROBERTA on her left breast nametag. Apparently, he was a regular. "It's so good to see you, again. And you brought a friend." She swivelled her smile toward me. "Who's this?"

"This is Nora Grey." Rixon said, loosely throwing a hand my way. "Just give us a couple of Glocks and some targets out back, and we'll be fine."

"Glock?"

"Nineteen." Rixon confirmed.

The woman left for a minute through a curtained door and returned with a box in her freckled hands. "Nineteen model from Austria for you," Roberta said, sliding the box in front of Rixon, "And for you girlie, I got a Glock 36."

"What's the difference?" I asked, watching Rixon unwrap the box.

Roberta dropped, her elbow supporting all her weight on the counter, "Seriously?" She asked in a ridiculously masculine voice. Sighing, she ripped the .19 out of Rixon's hands and held up the .36. "This," She waved Rixon's gun, "Is a nine millimetre with a shorter slide, barrel and frame than the original, which is seventeen. The legal maximum holding round in California is ten, but this model can hold fifteen rounds in the magazine." Handing it back to Rixon, I stared at its polished black surface. There was a nine printed at the slide, with Austria and 9x19. Rixon peeled his fingers over the three finger gap on the grip and checked the front sight.

"_Yours_ is a .36." She stressed over the word, making sure I was paying attention, "It's a sub-compact which means it's easier to conceal, carry and weighs less. There are no other Glocks the same size as this one. The .45 automatic colt pistol, ACP, holds six rounds in the magazine in each stack." Roberta handed me the gun. It felt snub in my hands. Mine was tinted a shade of brown, gleaming in the starry model. 36, Austria and .45 Auto were printed on the slide of mine. Rixon's grip had room for three fingers, mine had only room for two. I wrapped my hands around it, placing my left where the magazine went and holding the front of the trigger guard. I peered around the rear sight.

"Good," Roberta praised, "But if you want to do any damage you've got to get your finger on the trigger, not the guard. The magazine goes where your left hand is, the hammer is above the back strap, and the magazine release is that button above the grip. Any questions?"

Rixon looked at me.

"No." I said.

"Good." Roberta gave a brisk nod. "The usual, Rixon. Ten dollars per hour. I trust you to tell her the rules."

Rixon slid a credit card across the counter. The motion was amusing, since it seemed like the kind of establishment to have a no credit cards rule. Roberta took it, gracefully, and ran it by the machine behind her. "Two or three?"

"The usual." Rixon said.

"The usual?" I mouthed at him. He held up two fingers.

Roberta slid back the credit card across the counter, and Rixon swiped it off, scooting into the back of the room, pocketing it. The safety of both our guns were on, so I held it in my right hand slackly. "Excuse me?" Roberta looked up. "What do we do with the guns once we're finished?"

She cocked her head, making he feel more exposed and vulnerable under her watchful eye. "You know what, hon? Keep it."

"But I'm only sixteen—"

She held up a freckled hand. "I don't care about age, here. But if it makes you feel better, I'll send you a permit." She was mocking my good girl attitude. The sentiment was there, but it seemed indignant without Rixon. I went to shake her hand around the counter, but she was already parting the curtain to the back room.

"You coming?" Rixon asked.

I jogged up to him.

"Roberta must really like you." He said. "She doesn't just let anyone keep her guns." I didn't know how to answer that, so I didn't. In the shooting range, it was secluded, empty. Rixon chose the middle booth, and set down his gun on the tray. Loading a fresh magazine into it, he looked over at me and perked his eyebrows.

"What are you waiting for, love?" He asked. Ejecting the old magazine, I mimicked him with shaking fingers and jammed a new magazine into the bottom of the Glock until it clicked. "Googles, don't forget the googles."

I wound a pair with the strap behind my head, the visor clear in front of my eyes. Raising the gun until the front sight met the red centre of the bull's eye, I tugged on the trigger. The recoil wasn't new to me, but this gun was more powerful. I was forced a step back, the bullet cracking into the neck of the silhouette, missing the centre by miles.

"Haven't you ever practiced before?" Rixon asked, tongue sharp as he lined up his gun with the target. Three bullets rang out and dotted the man's chest in a perfectly equilateral triangle.

"Not under these conditions." I mumbled, calling to mind my training with Ulrich and Leveque. Leveque was the gun expert, Ulrich the knife expert and sparring instructor. "Hey, do they have knives here?"

Rixon didn't ask. He just turned, shirt thrown upward so that his hipbone was visible to me while he reached over to the next booth to grab a switchblade. "Italian—" He began, but I rushed on.

"Ohmigosh, Rixon. Your hip!" I slid my hand under Rixon's shirt, feeling smooth skin until I found the bumpy ridge of scar tissue below. "What happened?"

He shimmied out of my reach, gun and Italian switchblade on the tray. "It's nothing new, love." He tried to assure, but I adopted a hands-on-my-hips stance, goggles ripped off and gun meeting his on the tray below us.

"Rixon, tell me what happened."

"It's just a battle scar."

"From?" I pushed.

"My time as a mercenary." Rixon confessed, stealing my goggles to splay over his eyes. He shot two more rounds into the target before continuing, "I've seen a lot of things, Nora." Something flashed behind his eyes, not supernatural. Emotion. Something dark and dangerous and wound from years of working as a mercenary. Emotions that dug so deep I couldn't understand the raw pain behind his half-lidded eyes. "I've never come across a spirit, personally. But I've known many who have."

My voice was a strangled whisper, "Who?"

Charming, playful, and up to no good Rixon turned with wallow stuffed down his voice. "There was this blonde betty in a town where I was working, once. She hired me to protect her. Said the dead were going to rise up against her because of what she had done."

"And what did she do?"

"Wouldn't say. To this day, I don't actually know. She had a friend for Patch, though. Knew that he liked them red at the time, but I liked them fair." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I went moonlighting with the dead over at the town graveyard. There was this guy propped up on a headstone. I thought it was just some teen arsing around, but it wasn't. It was my betty's ex-fiancé, trying to possess the dead."

Holding back the theatrical gasp that wanted to leave my throat, I asked, "How did you stop him?"

"Burned down the graveyard, Patch and I swept betty and red off their feet, and the four of us left the town." I noticed at how he didn't give any real names, and wondered if his privacy was really all that secretive. "So I believe you, Nora. I believe the possibility that your dad's ghost could be possessing the kanima. Could be its master." He tried a reassuring smile, but I couldn't help the question that left my chest.

"What happened after?"

The corners of his mouth fell, and Rixon turned away. "Red was the first girl Patch ever loved." He scratched his cheek.

"I thought it was Dabria."

Rixon's eyes glinted. "Patch was human, then. The four of us lived together, for a bit. Before Dabria turned Patch and killed red, all because she was made from dust of the earth. All because she was human."

"And betty?"

A smile touched Rixon's words. "Betty and I… we broke up when Patch and I got… close. After Patch became a werefox and ran from Dabria, we got better jobs. He was faster, stronger, with capabilities no one could beat. We were mercenaries for a French king a long while after that, black ops gig, good money."

"No wonder you're so good with a gun." I remarked. "So what brought you guys to Beacon Hills?"

"You'll have to ask Patch that."

"Can you at least tell me what happened after the French king?"

"We thought Dabria was dead. He took solstice in my arms, but…" Rixon flinched. "He didn't want to mess up our friendship. We left France and circled back to Beacon Hills, where he got a job here after Dabria made her reappearance after the Hale fire."

I picked up the Italian switchblade, clicking the metal out of the fine dark wood. "Did Patch tell you about The Silver Hand?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There was a note tacked up to my fridge that said it had to do with my dad's death." I picked out the ring from my pocket, balancing it on my palm so it hit the light. "This was with it."

"A Silver Hand ring? It looks burnt."

"So it doesn't look silver anymore, but I checked. Multiple times."

Rixon ran a thumb along his bottom lip.

"I thought it was just someone messing with me. I know Kate Argent killed my dad."

Rixon was thoughtful, then said, "She could have been a mercenary for them. They hire a lot, Patch and I worked that for a while." He turned back, nonchalantly, loading up his gun to fire in succession at the target.

"Yeah." I said, flatly, injecting every ounce of casual I had, "Maybe." Turning my hip, I flipped the knife into the heart of the target.

* * *

After Rixon dropped me off at home, I called Stiles to ask him over tomorrow to go through my dad's stuff—he was the detective, and if there were any clues to be found about my dad in relation to the kanima victims, Stiles would be able to find it. He agreed, reluctantly, and said he'd be over at around three. I stashed the Glock with my other weapons, mounting up a pile of secrets in my locked drawer, the gun and knife from Leveque and Ulrich, the electrified baton, this new gun, The Silver Hand note and ring. It was all beginning to get a little bit too much.

True to his word, Sunday, three o'clock, Stiles' blue Jeep rolled into the driveway of the farmhouse.

In my dad's office, all of his manila files spewed out and scattered across the dusted floors, Stiles and I sifted through any source that could indicate why my dad would be targeting ex-Beacon Hills students. Connections, so far, were scarce.

I had just finished talking to Stiles about my day yesterday with Rixon, when he said, "So she let you keep the gun?"

"Mmhmm."

"Whoa." Stiles said. "Lucky."

"Not really. If my house is ever searched, I'm screwed." I played off a casual laugh, but it choked bitterly. To cover it up, "H-Hey," I forced myself to continue onwards, "Have you found anything?"

"No." Stiles closed a folder with 2003 printed on it, about a missing girl called Malia Tate. "And if I'm being honest, Nora, I don't think we're going to find anything. What's made you so sure that your dad's spirit is the kanima master?"

Grunting, I slammed the file I was holding down on the cheery floors my dad and I had installed together. "I've told you, Stiles! He keeps appearing. And it's not a coincidence, I'm not imagining it. I never saw him before, so why would I six years after? It's him, Stiles, he's controlling Jackson and making him kill all those people because he thinks they killed him, you were there, you heard."

Stiles' warm, delicate hands grappled mine. "Nora. All this Silver Hand stuff, it's bull." A cheery smile swished across his face. "Don't you think they would be here, by now? We're all still alive and kicking."

Bending my head down, a wetness spilled over from my eyes. A tear. It cascaded, glittering, onto our enclosed hands. My heart stung. Somehow, this friendly, affectionate hand-holding was more gutting than the kiss we had shared at the rave. Just like that, my head was spinning back to that kiss. Those cupid bow lips, curved across mine and tasting like… honeysuckle and lemongrass. "Nora?"

"I know all this Silver Hand stuff is real." I said, determinedly. Of all the people that needed to understand it, Stiles was top of the list. His life was in danger, too, and he needed to know that. "Just before the rave, there was a bullet with this chemical substance from a Honey Badger that forced Vee to Shift. Luckily, we were close to the bathroom at the time, so no harm was done."

"For a bunch of people that want us dead, why would they do something as petty as that?"

"They're killers, Stiles. Completely psycho. They had a guy track down their victims to brand them before killing them."

"Yeah," Stiles said, taking his hands away from mine to run through his hair. I missed the feel of those short spikes flicking through my fingers. "I heard the story about this brander who's made them all into a pack." He sped out, in one breath. "But we've still got Jackson, more importantly, to take care of."

"And since my dad's the kanima master…" I flicked open another file, propped my chin on my fist and landed my elbow on a soft spot of dirty wood.

"Nora?" A rough, rich voice travelled through the gap below my dad's office door. "Are you in here?" The door opened, cracking at the worn hinges with a sound like air rushing out of one confined space. "Oh?" He raised heavy dark eyebrows, leaving his slightly chapped lips parted. "Stiles? What are you doing here?"

"I thought you'd be training with the Betas." I said, standing. Flinging myself into his arms in front of company didn't seem appropriate, so I tried to clear away the defensive tone in my voice, and added, "And I needed someone to help me look through my dad's stuff."

"She still obsessed with the theory whoever's controlling the kanima is her dad?" Derek asked, shutting the door behind him with his hands out of view, hips leaning back. He was talking to Stiles, who blew out a sigh with puffy cheeks and nodded. "Alright," He crossed his leather-clad massive biceps across his chest, tipping his head down, "How do you explain the tape?"

"What tape?" I whizzed around to face Stiles.

"Jackson taped himself for the full moon, remember? With Matt's camera. Danny found missing footage and helped him retrieve it." Stiles, patiently, explained.

"Don't ghosts mess with technology?" I injected as much confidence into the statement, that sounded like it needed approval, but the case was flat on its back, dead. "Yeah," Raising my chin, flipping my hair back, "Ghosts mess with electricity in weird ways. Something about magnetic fields."

"Didn't you do your research?" Derek mocked, tone clipped and crass. Couldn't he see how close this was to my heart? My dad was getting revenge from the grave, and he wanted more proof, other than my word? Who had trust issues in the relationship, now?

"This sounds like a couples thing." Stiles said, carefully stepping over the files and folders and knick-knack papers so that his whole body arched and his arms windmilled. "I'll see you later, Nora." He bobbed his head curtly and said, "Derek."

In passing, Derek nodded back, stepping away so Stiles could find himself outside the door. The heavy thumping of stairs ran down, followed by the opening and closing of the front door. "Why'd you do that? He was my investigation partner."

"Do you need one?"

I racked up some notes, tapping them against the floor so they were even, and shoved them inside a file. Closing it and hugging it to my chest, I rose to stand and stretch, the file falling to slap on the top of my father's desk. Derek watched me with precise movements of his calculating, dark moss green eyes.

Soundlessly, Derek scooped three files at once into the curve of his arm, handing them over in his calloused hands. Taking them, I slid into my father's chair and rolled the desk open. After a few minutes of him gathering the files and handing them to me, so I could in turn place them back into my father's drawers, Derek finally broke the silence.

He cleared his throat, going on to ask, "So what's the deal with Vee and Isaac?"

A paper slipped from my fingertips, flattening to the ground in long, seesaw strides. Derek crumpled it in his fingers, flicking it up to me. "That's an odd question. Why'd it take so long?"

"It's just that…" He chuckled, dark and lavishly. "They seem to have a weird chemistry, or is it just me?"

"Isaac was Vee's Winter Formal date." I said. Derek's eyebrows lifted, gently, in lieu of actually asking to elaborate. Sighing, and feeling like talking about my best friend to my boyfriend was violating some kind of unspoken treaty between us, I hesitantly worked an explanation in my head, before answering. "They're… complicated. I mean, the allure is there, for sure. Isaac was someone Vee saw as, well, as a human. I think she saw them dating. Without all the horrible things happening around us, I think she saw a possible future with him. But since he got the Bite, now he's one of those horrible things. A creature of the night. A werewolf, and these horrible things aren't going to stop. The Bite that you gave Isaac destroyed their chance at being together." I paused long enough to take a breath, slamming the drawer shut with my knee. "But she's happy with Rixon, and Isaac's got his new found cool thing going on."

"So it's definitely not going to happen?" Derek asked, grabbing the last manila folder.

"I don't think so. Not in the near future. Even if Isaac gets over himself, they're both headstrong. Sometimes it works. Personalities that clash have a higher chance at staying together because they complete each other. Vee liked Isaac because he was shy. It gave her a sense of purpose, something to focus on that wasn't only lycanthrope. She pretty much lost who she was when Peter bit her." Laughing mirthlessly, I joked, "Maybe Isaac could be Vee's anchor now that Peter's dead."

Derek's eyebrows were still hooked together. He was staring at the folder, _through _the folder, like it had all the secrets of the world in it. "What about Patch? Do you think he'd consider being part of the pack, since Lionel isn't?"

"Okay, first of all, I'm working Lionel and I actually think I'm getting him to trust me. And second, Patch? It's doubtful. Are there even werefox packs?"

Derek looked up, meeting my eyes. "It's very rare." He explained. "When foxes get together, it's called a skulk, not a pack. Otherwise, they generally just find a mate and hunt individually, only meeting to mate and leaving their cubs for times on end to find food." Derek spoke his next words with a wildness, a passion I didn't see. "They're fascinatingly adaptable creatures. Known to cause trouble, actually."

Bursting his bubble, I cut in, "If werefoxes rarely make skulks, what made you think Patch would want to be in a werewolf pack?"

Derek didn't hesitate to answer. It was on the tip of his tongue, already. "Because of their timid and skittish nature, most werefoxes choose to align themselves with larger, stronger predatory species. Also known as, werewolves. Joining a pack would offer more protection than a skulk can, and no other predator would want to hurt them."

A laugh rose from deep within my chest. When I stopped, rocking, I placed a hand on Derek's wrist, holding myself from falling. "Patch is neither timid nor skittish, and he seems to be able to take care of himself pretty darn well."

Silence ensued. Instead of handing me the file, Derek curved over me to open the drawer and stuff it inside himself. I caught a flash of red ink reading CLAUDIA, before it vanished inside the drawer's blackness.

Derek's fiery flesh enclosed around my hand. Tugging, he crashed his lips against mine. Kissing Derek was like a force of nature. Swept up in the wind, carried in the rolling of the tidal waves, buried in the cracking earth. A soft moan-slash-gasp shrivelled up in my throat, and was killed by his skilled tongue dabbing dangerously at the corners of my twisted mouth. It was a soft flick, one that told me how much pleasure and how much death he had tasted, revelling in both shamelessly.

Panting for breath, I nuzzled into the crook of Derek's thickly muscled shoulder. Somehow, the strength that lay conspicuously on his clavicle still amazed me. Thrumming tension electrified the air my breath sprayed over the skin of his neck, brought with exciting heat that spun my breathless body.

"So, uh," Derek said, smoothly, husky around the edges, but low and breathy in an arousing way—not a gasping way, "What were you and Stiles talking about?"

"Like you didn't hear." I censured, palm to his chest. Derek ripped my hand away from his breast, daring to sizzle the air between our hands in a holy palmer's kiss. Derek tubs the tip of his nose against my cheek next in an Eskimo kiss, dark stubble beginning to file and mark my pale skin. The sensation dropped to my stomach with a congesting thump, toes curling. "Derek…" I moaned. "Why are you being so…" Deciding not to end that sentence, when Derek's head resurfaced from the red scratch of the vulnerable curve of my neck, I merely shrugged. Delving back down, he squeezed my chin between his blunt human teeth. Lips peeling against the soft skin between the bones of my jaw, profligately wet and hot. "Derek, stop, I'm gonna get stubble burn." My arms went around his neck, meeting at the nape where soft trimmed hairs scraped my fingertips. A thought clicked. "Are you jealous?"

Immediately, Derek pulled back. "Of who? Stiles?" When saying Stiles, he spat with superfluous choking venom. But he didn't let me pull away. Derek gripped my wrist, bruisingly hard in a circle of his hand, and said, "Yes. I heard you and him talk. To be honest…" He shook his head. "I don't know what to think. Kate may have been part of The Silver Hand. Who knows? Maybe she even killed your father." Palming my cheek, his eyes softened at my flinch, and his next words were spoken with a tender care that melted my heart. "But never in a million years would I think the person who raised _you_, your father, be him a ghost or spirit now in the afterlife, could ever do anything even related to murder. Not if Harrison Grey was anything like his daughter."

At that, I had to kiss him back, feverishly. It was already late, and once we had stripped into night-suitable clothing, Derek was radiating irresistible heat from all sides. I snugged my cheek against his bare chest, hand running down his wide bicep. He was snoring, catlike, purr after purr pushing me beyond to sleep, where I didn't want to go.

Because as soon as my eyes shut and I was ripped away from Derek's constricted arm over me, the shooter was fuzzed by the crystal ball. Everything snapped into sight once the first shot blared, light and sound exploding in vicious red. The dirty blonde hair I had once seen wasn't there, anymore. Whatever hair the shooter had was all hidden under a dark blue ball cap. Only the shooter wasn't female. It was male.

* * *

Derek never usually stuck around for breakfast, especially on weekdays. It was Monday, and even though it was spring break, Mom was racking up something in the kitchen. Derek must've been awoken by the scent, and sprinted out the window when it hit his nose.

He never even made me stir in my sleep.

I didn't want to believe it was because he was practiced at sneaking away from girl's beds, so I chose to think it was more werewolf stealth; to be soundless.

Each time he slept over, he did always leave on piece of clothing. This morning, I woke up with it in my hand, curled to my chest in a balled fist. A blush blew across my cheeks like hot wind. Springing out of bed comically, I stuffed it in my drawer with the rest of my boy briefs.

At first it was all spontaneous kisses from Derek, and conflicting I love-hate you thoughts running through my mind. Now, it was more peaceful. A thousand acquainted were not worth more than the honest friendship I had with Derek. He hadn't kissed me like he did last night in _so_ long, that passionate fire warming my lips, the tracking of his stubble marking what was truly his, and now leaving the scent of his boxers in my bed… Just gave me a lot to think about. I knew what I was in for, dating a werewolf. Covering that territory wasn't embarrassing, it was something to get used to.

It was the twentieth of March, meaning there was about eleven days left for mating season. Derek was subtly pressuring the thoughts into my head. He was getting on edge because of the end of mating season, and he hadn't done any mating. I didn't know if it was because it would be his first season without any or maybe because he hadn't _mated_ in a while.

What I did know was that I wanted him.

More than ever.

But no stupid werewolf custom about mating season was going to dictate when we were going to consummate. It was my first time. Derek was the one I wanted to give my V-Card to, but not in mating season. I had to show that, even though I respected werewolf customs, my first time would not be because of his wolf hormones getting out of control. Besides, I didn't want to end up with cubs or something.

Soon, but not now. I knew Derek would understand and respect my decision to wait a little while longer, maybe until my seventeenth birthday. While mating season was still a ball in the air, sex was off the table.

Swiping my phone off the night stand, I opened up a new text from Lionel. It was just to remind me of battle of the bands tomorrow. What kind of battle of the bands was on Tuesday? He said that the plan was to scout talent, hoping to get picked up by someone local. I texted back a quick question, which he replied to in less than a minute flat. He said he used to play for a band called Geezer. Good enough. Texting Vee to come over today, I bounced down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Breakfast twice in a row? What's the special occasion?"

"There is none." Mom said. "Just wanted to make my baby her breakfast." Mom hadn't called me her baby since I showed her the scratches of when I fell down riding my bike without help when I was little. My dad took me to the park, and by half three in the afternoon I could make the half-loop all by myself. About halfway there, a dog picked up my scent and began lopping aggressively towards my fallen bike, smelling the blood on my knee. A soft voice told me to stay still, to not move. The dog eventually lost interest in me, although my muscles were screaming at me to run, and ran off in the opposite direction—away from my statuelike form.

Dad asked how I knew what to do, or if I was just scared. I told him about the voice, thinking it might have been the dog's owner. Dad said it was instinct, and that nine times out of ten it would prove right. Admittedly, I would have to say I don't listen to my instincts enough. Patch, upon meeting me, said that my second biggest issue was trusting all the wrong people. Maybe Derek was right, and I had to trust my instincts fist, and people second.

"Vee's coming over." I informed her, in a no-nonsense voice, to which she nodded at. "Will we have the house to ourselves?"

"Why? Are you hoping to make _Girls Gone Wild_ tame?" Mom teased, a feculent smile teasing her lips.

"We'll be hanging out in my room." I said. "Need anything, just knock."

* * *

First order of business when Vee came over was taking her up to my room to show her the Silver Hand note, ring and tell her what Rixon said at the shooting range.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Vee held up both her palms, golden bangles on her wrist knocking together. "Rixon had a blonde girlfriend, before me?"

"Only thing you took from the story?"

"That, and the fact Patch likes 'em red. Who would have known? Danny's as dark-haired as they come." Vee said.

"What about the part about the girl's dead fiancé trying to possess corpses in a graveyard?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Vee asked, brows drawing together. "Do you really think that, to get a human body, your dad would possess a corpse from the grave?"

"Isn't it a possibility?"

"No."

"No?"

"No way!" Vee rose off my bed, slapping her high heels on the floor of my bedroom. "Nora, you have to stop this! First, you think you're dad's alive, then that he's possessing Jackson to kill the people he thought killed him. Now, Rixon tells you this… this bedtime story about him and Patch being mercenaries and you think your dad, the lovably respected accountant Harrison Grey, is trying to possess the dead?"

"I didn't say that he was trying to possess the dead." I persisted, through clenched teeth. "But if a spirit could do that, who knows that else they could do. Why rule controlling a kanima off the list?"

"Even Derek's never heard—"

"But Rixon, your boyfriend, has!"

"He also said that Patch got a job here." Vee argued. "Who would hire him, and to do what?"

"Want to know what I think?"

"Not especially." Vee had crossed her arms, and was impatiently tapping her five inch heel.

"Having seen a male shooting my dad, wearing Patch's trademark blue ball cap, I think we should go to the source. Go to Patch and talk to him ourselves."

"Trademark?" Vee guffawed. "Nora, trademarks don't mean anything!" She was desperately trying to avoid a confrontation with Patch, and I wanted to know why. Vee didn't change her mind this quickly, she may be obnoxious but once she thought something she stuck to it. Since when did she miss out on an opportunity to damn Patch? "It's like Marcie's toxic bitch grin. Doesn't mean anything."

"That's such a pathetic excuse." I gripped her arm. "I'm sick of doing nothing. I learned that Kate killed my father, and wasn't able to do anything. I was shown a ring and a note of The Silver Hand and was still not able to do anything. I was tricked by Patch, who warned me about The Silver Hand's threats, and still there was nothing I could do because they're not even here yet! I want to go to Ms. Morrell, who charged Patch with protecting me in the first place. I want to know why."

"Think maybe she could have paid him to protect you?" Vee asked.

"Maybe. We're about to find out." I paused, stealing a sidelong look at her. "But I also want to know why, all of a sudden, you're hesitant to find some answers about Patch's deep, dark past."

"Look," Vee explained, pulling the doorknob to yank open the door, "We've come to a sort of agreement."

"You mean you're friends?"

"No! Never! It's just that while you were with Derek, solely, we bonded a little and it's grown to be… to be…"

"Not so adversial." I grinned.

"Babe, shut up."

"Mom! We're headed out."

Down the stairs, at the landing, Mom appeared wearing an apron and gripped the banister. "Off to shop?"

Vee picked up the lie for me. "Victoria's Secret."

"Vee's got a new boyfriend." I added, intensifying the lie to something that made Vee cringe behind my mother's back at me. "Wants to look pretty for him." She slapped my arm.

"Well, you know what they say." Mom said. "You are who you hang with."

At the same time, Vee and I put a hand over our hearts. "Thank you." We said, then looked at each other.

"Actually, I was talking about me." Mom chirped, shutting the door behind us.

"She's chipper." Vee mumbled. "So where are we actually going?"

"You said you wanted to find out if Ms. Morrell contracted Patch to hire me. And since neither one of us knows where he lives, we should go to Ms. Morrell's."

Vee got out the Neon's keys. "Do you know where she lives?"

"No. Do you?"

"No. This is pointless." Vee dug the keys into the slot and unlocked the car, opening the door. "Who knows Ms. Morrell's home address, other than the school?"

"Vee, we're not breaking into the school, so don't even think about it." I snapped, winding my seatbelt.

"I wasn't—" Giving her a look, she deflated, "Fine! What do you suggest? Her brother's veterinary office?" She revved the engine after my nod.

* * *

The Animal Clinic was open seven thirty am to five thirty pm on Monday to Friday. Saturday was by appointment, and strictly closed on Sunday, God's day. It was around two o'clock by the time Vee's Neon slid into the space beside Deaton's car in the lot out back.

After sharing what we knew with him, Deaton refused to believe Patch was the shooter, insisting it was Kate who killed my father, whom he called Harrison quite comfortably.

"Who told you?" Vee insisted, eyes slitting. "Were you there?" Her tone was accusatory, yet Deaton was as superficial as always.

Pressing a calming hand to her shoulder, in a flat voice, he said, "No. Unfortunately, I wasn't there when Nora's dad died." That was the first time he acknowledged me as his daughter. Turning the full gaze of his dark eyes on me, he continued, "But I heard—"

"You _heard_?" Vee demanded, unblinkingly.

"—from a friend—" Deaton tried, in one smooth breath.

"A _friend_?" She spat, unbelieving.

"—of Harrison's, named Barnabas Underwood." Deaton finished. Vee opened her lips to speak, but I raised a hand to her, silently begging her to keep quiet. "That's what he went by, at the time. After he survived Kate's assault, unlike Harrison, he fled. I never met him face-to-face, but I knew of him since he was… he was also a person of interest to people like Scott, Derek, and," Deaton paused to smile lovingly at Vee, "your friend here."

Vee gave an exaggerated eye roll, kissing her teeth as her eyes travelled all the way around the socket.

"If your crystal ball is broken," Deaton left his sentenced hanging in the air, unfinished. A drawer rolled, loudly, open and smacked back. Deaton returned with a glimmering spherical ball, perfectly cut to the size of his palm. "You can use mine."

I reached out to touch it, pads of my fingers crawling with the heat radiating off the unblemished surface. Deaton's hand recoiled, springing the ball away from my hand.

"But I'm going to have to be there to supervise." A smile was still lodged on his face. "Is your mom home?"

"No."

"Good." Deaton swept up his keys with his available hand. "Let's get going."

* * *

The drive home was short enough that I didn't have to listen to Vee rant about how she didn't trust Deaton for too long. He was Scott's boss, and mentor, I didn't understand her aversion to him. Whatever he was, he had implied pretty heavily that I was, too, so I hoped it wasn't anything to do with scents.

Deaton stepped out of his car, still holding his crystal ball with both hands folded over the rounded top. Vee glared at him, scowling, as she locked the Neon. I plugged the house keys from out of my purse, jamming them into the front door. Deaton caught up in a smattering of seconds, with Vee scampering up to the front steps in long strides. Not trusting Deaton long enough to leave me with him alone.

Inside, I flicked on an array of lights. Vee shut the door behind her, pointing toward the kitchen. Looking back, through the gaps in my curls, Deaton was confidently walking forward—towards me. Gingerly setting the sphere down, he spread his palms.

"What are you waiting for?" He said, after a beat.

"Instructions?" Vee said, clicking her heels into the room. "Last time it took us a while."

Deaton's fingers wrapped around the sphere, lifting it up. His other hand went out, hovering in the air. Waiting. Vee nodded, green eyes glittering. Slipping my hand into his cooler one, Deaton's gaze flicked to me and the ball of swirling white light jumped out to pop small stars across my field of vision—emblazing across Deaton's eyes, and mine.

_The blonde woman turned slowly, gun in hand lowering until the barrel was pointing to her boot. "Harrison." She tutted, in a tantalizingly slow voice. "Harrison, Harrison, Harrison." Disappointment crossed her face, blocking the small beacon of true emotion that flickered out from the mask of pain and hurt beaten upon her._

"_Kate." Harrison tried to spit back, with the menace he held in his bleeding heart for her. A long trickle of red bubbled from the corner of his lip, where pink foam was beginning to spill. Bullets of sweat beaded across his forehead._

"_Why did you have to go ahead and investigate the fire?" Kate asked, her face illuminating under the half moon's beams. "Anything, _but_ the fire! Anything." She repeated. "You always were a nosy one. Gerard told me about that sense you have. Sorry," She laughed, a sound so high and musical she was deceivingly childlike for the moments she was briefly encased in the darkness of the house, where the shadows were crawling towards here. "Had."_

"_They'll find out." Harrison's lips twisted. "About how you broke the Code."_

"_I did what I…" Kate broke off, turning her face to shield whatever was sparking in her touching, just green eyes._

"_You did what you wanted to do." Harrison's voice was cut off by a wet, sucking sound from the bullet hole punctured over his abdomen. "Seducing Derek Hale into telling you about the Wolf Moon, when all the Hales would be in one place. Spared a few of them, didn't you? Missed about…" Harrison looked up, pretending to look thoughtful. "Well, the headlines said electrical malfunction. Although arson is suspected. By quite a few people." A smirk curled Harrison's lips in a way few had been unlucky enough to see. "Smoke inhalation and fire listed as the causes of death. With eight dead family members. Eight. Derek told you about the shackles, didn't he?"_

_Kate's eyes glinted, sleeting over with a calculating gleam._

"_It may have been the Wolf Moon, but it was still a moon. They had to shackle up those who couldn't control themselves, the kids and teenagers. Derek and Laura weren't there, at the time. But the others were. Talia Hale, Papa Hale, who you bludgeoned to death, the other little ones. All dead. Peter was left comatose. Frederick Sales, or Frederick Hale's body was never found, among the ashes and bones. He's missing. Derek's cousin, on his father's side." A bloodied laugh left Harrison's mouth, wracking his chest wetly. "Know what that tallies up to? No, of course you don't. You had to reel in a chemistry teacher and a few arsonists to do the dirty work for you. The total number of possibly escaped, or alive, Hales adds up to seven. Derek. Laura. Peter. His lover. Fred. Cora and—"_

"_Shut up." Kate growled, lowly, arm shaking._

"_You killed kids, Kate. Kids and teenagers who couldn't control themselves. A mother and father. Cousins, and humans! You broke up a family, not only of werewolves, but of humans too. Humans! You know what you are, Kate? You're not a hunter." He pronounced each syllable as if the word was melting on his tongue. "You're a _murderer_."_

_The last image he saw was the flare of Kate's gun._

Deaton swung his hand away, a ripping sound sucked through the air. Vee's hands cupped the ball, placing it on the table before it cracked from Deaton's slack grip.

"You felt it, too?" I asked Deaton, who was greener than I had ever seen him. Memory scrying didn't only make me sick, then. Good to know.

"Her guilt?"

"Yes, but my dad was stalling so Barnabas could get away. It seemed like what he said was memorized, all those facts about the fire just came out of his mouth. He didn't think twice about it, which is probably why he added three people to the list of survivors from the fire."

Deaton's brows knitted together. "Three?"

"I don't know about cousin Fred, but Patch was Peter's lover, and he wasn't a Hale or a werewolf. He said seven. Derek, Laura, Peter, Patch, Fred and two others. Cora, Derek's little sister, and someone else he didn't get to name." I said, sucking in air before black slated over my eyes.

"You think he was just rambling?"

"There might've been an element of truth. I doubt there wasn't, actually. But that's not even the point. The point is Barnabas could be alive." I exclaimed.

"So could other Hales." Deaton said. "Derek's sister Laura is dead because of Peter, and he, too, is deceased. But Cora, and his other cousin, Frederick. It's a shame he didn't get to name that last Hale."

Vee's eyes dropped. She was staring at my chest. A blush, of all things, heated my cheeks. "Babe?" She said, cautiously raising her fingernail to tap against a metallic curve at the end of Patch's necklace.

Deaton's fingers went to the back of my neck, unhooking and wiring it around my throat. A bullet, capped and perfectly symmetrical to the one we found in Vee's purse, hung off the end of the silver chain. "Same one you brought me, Nora."

"But you kept it." I mumbled. "Didn't you?"

"Yes. Which means this one is new." Deaton said. "This chemical has different effects on humans. It forces werewolves to Shift, but it has illusionary principals, particularly in visions caused by—"

"Crystal balls." Vee said. Dragging in a more aggressive, confident breath, she said, "Which means someone wanted you to see something different. Someone wanted you to think Patch killed your dad."

I wondered if it had also been behind me seeing and hearing him.


End file.
